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by thecommodore_squid (orphan_account)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Descriptions of Acting Profession are Probably Inaccurate, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fame, Fluff, Happy Ending, Lots of fights, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Mentions of Prostitution, Mentions of suicide attempt, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, One Mild Description of Animal Violence, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, Steve Rogers Versus Everyone, Steve Rogers Versus Himself tbh, Steve Rogers Versus the Media, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 12:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4919347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thecommodore_squid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re losing public favor at a dramatic rate.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Fury glared. “Fortunately, I am smart enough for the both of us and have created a narrow pathway of recovery. This option has a little bit of opportunity-cost, but I’m eighty-three percent sure that it’ll be worth it and it’ll work in the long run.” Nick paused, then amended, “Eighty-two percent.”</p><p>AKA<br/>A Fake Dating AU in which Steve and Bucky are famous.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually really excited about this one, considering I have a terrible weakness for AUs in which one or both of the characters is famous. It is my guilty pleasure. Surprise: I also have a weakness for fake relationships. The only logical way to proceed was to combine the two.
> 
> All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always immensely appreciated!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it!

In all honesty, Steve had absolutely no idea what he was doing here.

 

Or how he’d ended up here in the first place.

 

He could’ve sworn that ten minutes ago, he’d been sitting on his couch with plans to watch Netflix. Now, he was shoving his way through a sweaty crowd, bass thrumming through his bones, lights gliding across his vision in smooth, sporadic lines, as he made his way to the bar.

 

Steve ordered a beer, and pushed himself to the farthest corner of the bar- the only corner where the lights and music seemed a little more distant.

 

Steve didn’t know what he was doing here.

 

He stared into his beer for several moments, taking measured breaths, before he forced himself to people-watch.

 

The mass of people streamed into a rowdy crowd of drunk people trying to get the bartender’s attention by the center of the bar. A curvy woman effortlessly made her way to the front and grabbed a fruity-looking beverage. She winked at Steve as she walked past, hips sashaying.

 

Steve frowned, eyes catching on a ruggedly attractive man leaning against the bar with his legs sprawled out invitingly. He was flirting heatedly with a woman, and as he purchased her a drink, Steve saw the subtle but sure movement of something foreign being dropped into the liquid.

 

Steve went cold all over as the man handed it to the woman.

 

Before he knew what he was doing, Steve was out of his stool and snatching the drink out of the woman’s hand.

 

“What the fuck, man?” the woman snapped, but Steve’s attention was focused on the man.

 

“What did you put in it?” he demanded.

 

The man raised his hands defensively. “Calm your tits, pal. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Steve gritted his teeth. “I’m talking about whatever you slipped in this drink. What was it?”

 

The man narrowed his eyes. “Are you accusing me of what I think you’re accusing me of?” he said, pushing himself to his feet to get in Steve’s face.

 

“Yeah, I think I am.”

 

The man shoved him. “So, say it out loud, you fucking pussy.”

 

Steve grabbed the collar of his shirt. “I’m saying you spiked the drink.”

 

The man sneered. “Like you’ve never done the same.”

 

And that?

 

That was enough.

 

Steve punched him square in the nose, hardly even registering the pain in his fingers.

 

“FUCK!” the man shouted, bringing a hand up to stem the sudden bleeding.

 

“Do we have a problem here?” Steve turned slightly to see a cluster of men watching him warily, postures tense and ready.

 

“Like hell we do,” Steve spat. “This fucker was spiking the drinks.”

 

The men exchanged glances, and then simultaneously got to their feet, as if they were in some sort of weird synchronized 50s gang. “Let’s have a chat,” one of them said.

 

That was how Steve found himself suddenly surrounded by six angry-looking men. His heart sank. He knew how this would end.

 

The first guy went for a head-butt, and Steve ducked and released him all at once, letting him lose balance to collide with one of his friends. Steve grabbed the back of his shirt and kicked down on the back of his knee, making him go down.

 

Then, it was complete chaos.

 

Steve frantically ducked limbs, thrashing out as often as he could get, but he was quickly overwhelmed. Somebody grabbed his arms and shoved him towards the edge of the club, and Steve kicked out, loosing himself temporarily.

 

He was dizzy with the amount of blows that had been dealt, but he had enough sense to stagger a few steps back, raising his fists. He spit out some blood, slurring, “I could do this all day.”

 

The guys, looking worse-for-wear, looked at each other before advancing again.

 

Steve backed up, only to find his back thumping into the cold surface of a window.

 

A second-story window.

 

_Uh oh._

 

Kicks and punches and shoves culminated in the shattering rain of glass at Steve’s back. Steve yelped, squeezing his eyes shut against the shards as they got in his hair and sliced at his skin.

 

The last thing he felt was a foot to the chest, rushing air, and a terrific collision.

 

After that, there was nothing.

 

* * *

 

 

**BREAKING: Steve Rogers reportedly in bar-fight in downtown Brooklyn**

**NEW: Actor Steve Rogers sends six men to hospital after bar-fight**

**TRENDING: Steve Rogers engages in a movie-worthy brawl, sending several men to the hospital**

**GOSSIP COLUMN: Is Steve Rogers a jealous boyfriend? Questions answered as Rogers turns violently possessive in Brooklyn club**

 

* * *

 

 

When Steve groggily pried his eyes open, Sam was standing over him with the most disapproving look he’d ever seen, muscular arms crossed decisively over his chest.

 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, man,” Sam said tiredly.

 

“What happened?” Steve croaked, voice raw.

 

Sam sighed. “You got thrown out a window.”

 

“Oh. Right,” Steve murmured with a strange sense of deja vu, trying to figure out how to move again so that he could push himself up.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Sam interjected, “You’ve got a broken clavicle, broken arm, bruised hip, and a concussion. Movement is definitely not advised right now.”

 

“Oh,” Steve said, staring up.

 

“Just so you know, I’m currently holding off a few very emotional friends, your pissed-as-fuck agent, and your weepy mom. You owe me.”

 

Steve cracked a smile. “But aren’t you one of my emotional friends?” he joked weakly. “I don’t owe you shit.”

 

Sam grinned a little. “I’m not worried about your ass. This shit happens every other week. Don’t accuse me of getting emotional.”

 

“You so cried in the bathroom about this,” Steve continued, trying for smug.

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “You can go back to unconsciousness now. I’ve decided I like you better when you can’t sass me.”

 

Steve laughed, but the movement quickly dissolved into a cough and a wince.

 

He hurt.

 

“Ow,” Steve croaked.

 

“You okay?” Sam asked, voice dropping into low concern.

 

“I’ve been better,” Steve muttered.

 

“Dude, what even happened? The press is saying a whole slew of things, but nothing sounds right.”

 

“God, don’t even tell me,” Steve moaned. “I bet they tried to- no. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

 

“What happened?” Sam pressed softly.

 

Steve sighed. “This guy was spiking the drinks. I confronted him, and his friends defended him. It’s not like I went out with the intention of getting thrown out a fucking window.”

 

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Sam said dryly.

 

“How’s everybody else?” Steve asked after a pause.

 

“Nick Fury is properly furious with you, considering the press tour on your next film begins in the fairly immediate future and the media’s managed to paint you like shit. Your mom and Angie keep crying, and Peggy keeps holding it together, but I know she’s shaken up. Natasha’s... well, you know how she is. And Tony had to leave earlier for a thing, so...” Sam gestured around the room, which Steve noticed for the first time.

 

“Of course,” he grumbled, glaring at all the tacky presents and balloons that were obviously personalized for Steve’s situation.

 

“Well, that’s Tony for you.”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

Sam paused. “Fury’s going to want to have a real serious talk with you,” he said gravely. “We can tell he has some sort of plan in the works.”

 

“Goody. I can hardly wait,” Steve deadpanned, glaring at the ceiling.

 

Sam sighed. “Get some rest, Steve. I’ll send in the others soon.”

 

“Okay.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

**TRENDING: #SteveRogersBarBrawl2k15**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Everything was a sort of whirlwind after that.

 

His mom came in after Sam, crying and kissing his forehead and yelling at him in sporadic bursts.

 

Then came Angie and Peggy, who were slightly less weepy. Angie still cried, rambling about how Steve’s life was a walking disaster. Peggy just watched with a clenched jaw, but gave his hand a meaningful squeeze on the way out.

 

Natasha just sat on the edge of his bed for fifteen minutes, saying nothing and staring at him with a blank but somehow judgmental expression. When she said, “Papa has something to talk to you about,” Steve knew he was in for it.

 

Nick Fury stopped to press a kiss to the top of Natasha’s head before entering, coat fanning out dramatically with the movement. He glared at Steve from behind his eye patch, hands clasped behind his back. “Glad to see you’re awake,” he said, but he didn’t sound glad at all. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Peachy,” Steve said, beginning to expect an interrogation.

 

“What _exactly_ happened?”

 

Steve explained the story carefully, trying to paint himself in the most objective light possible, although he did grow more defensive as the wrinkle in Fury’s brow deepened.

 

“The media is having a shitstorm,” Fury said, and Steve nodded because it was probably true. The media fucking hated his guts. They’d probably managed to make a whole horrific meme about it by now. “They’ve pegged you as a violent wreck who sent six men to the hospital over losing a girl’s attention.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, not sounding sorry at all, even though that did sound like one of the worse tales the media had spun.

 

“You’re losing public favor at a dramatic rate.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Fury glared. “Fortunately, I am smart enough for the both of us and have created a narrow pathway of recovery. This option has a little bit of opportunity-cost, but I’m eighty-three percent sure that it’ll be worth it and it’ll work in the long run.” Nick paused, then amended, “Eighty-two percent.”

 

Steve raised an eyebrow, simultaneously expectant and unimpressed.

 

Fury took a seat, managing to seem even bigger as he lowered himself. “Do you know who Bucky Barnes is?” he asked.

 

Steve frowned, confused with the non sequitur. “Am I supposed to...?”

 

Fury shifted in his seat, reached behind him to grab something, and dropped a file on the edge of the hospital bed. Steve tentatively reached for it, leafing through the pages.

 

Bucky Barnes was a devastatingly attractive and vaguely familiar man. “Oh! He was in that one super pretentious indie film!”

 

Fury nodded. “And that action flick last summer.”

 

Steve looked at the file, beginning to remember. “He’s a great actor. Undiscovered, though, if I’m right.”

 

“Exactly. Barnes’ agent and I are closely associated, and we’ve constructed a mutually beneficial deal.”

 

Steve stilled, not liking where this was going. “And...?”

 

“And Bucky Barnes is a brilliant but forgettable actor. _You_ are an unforgettable actor who lands in the tabloids every other week for some messy bullshit. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

 

Steve’s eyes flicked over to the door, wooden surface steady and reassuring in the blaring hospital light. “Not quite,” he said slowly.

 

“Barnes needs something to make him memorable and you need something to keep you in check. Both of you might manage to avoid foreseeable unemployment if you work together.”

 

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re simplifying things?”

 

Fury sat forward and said, “I want you and Barnes to pretend you’re in a serious relationship to improve both of your public images.”

 

Steve wrinkled his nose. “No.”

 

Fury’s glare became infinitely more threatening. “I think you fail to see the gravity of the situation. _You sent six men to the hospital_. This is not the first time something of this nature has happened. I know your side of the story, but nobody else fucking cares. Rogers- you are _losing public favor_. Nobody wants to see you in a movie if you’re violent and unpredictable. Am I making myself clear?”

 

Steve grit his teeth. “Crystal.”

 

Fury sat back. “Good. Barnes has military background and extraordinary discipline, from what his agent has told me. He will keep you in line. However, you will continue being _you_ enough to make his name knowable by association with yours. Are we clear?”

 

“We’re clear,” Steve muttered angrily.

 

“You will go through whatever couple-y gay fru-fru you have to go through to make the media sees beyond the fact that two men are dating. You will spend all your time together and you will pretend to enjoy it. And then, and _only_ then, will things have a chance of working out.”

 

Steve let out a deep, controlled breath.

 

“Glad that’s settled. You’ll be meeting him to establish your covers once you get out of the hospital. We’ll make our move from there,” Fury decided.

 

Steve closed his eyes, overwhelmed and tired and done with everything.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**NEW: Actor Steve Rogers appears in public with arm in a cast**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Steve sat at the restaurant next to Fury, glaring at his empty plate through his sunglasses. “When did you say they’d be here?” he muttered under his breath.

 

Fury checked his watch. “Fifteen minutes ago.”

 

Steve nodded jerkily. “Of fucking course.”

 

After his concussion had subsided, Steve had meticulously combed through Barnes’ file, reading up on the known information. Barnes was born in Indiana but lived most of his life in Brooklyn. He’d studied at NYU for two years and served in the army as a sergeant for almost two tours, receiving an honorable discharge after a vaguely described injury. Then, he’d gone into acting.

 

Steve watched all of the movies and TV shows Barnes had been in, evaluating his acting skills with judgment and jealousy. Barnes was a fucking fantastic actor. He did this thing with his eyes that conveyed so much that couldn’t be said or even explained. It was something Steve had been able to do only on the best days of his acting career, but here was Barnes, an undiscovered actor laying out the eye-acting like it was effortless.

 

Barnes also had a certain type of role that he conformed to more often than not.

 

And that role was mostly angst and gay.

 

As could be expected, Steve was burning with curiosity about the guy he was going to be shoved into a fake relationship with for the foreseeable future.

 

So, of course they had to be twenty minutes late to the restaurant.

 

Steve sat, brooding and snappish at everything. He wanted to cross his arms, but his fucking arm was _broken_ and he couldn’t move it, and he hated wearing sunglasses indoors, but it made him harder to recognize and he _hated_ when people recognized him more than he hated the fucking sunglasses.

 

(And his head fucking hurt.)

 

After what felt like forever, a man approached Fury and pulled him into a warm hug, causing Steve to blink in surprise. He’d never seen Fury be affectionate with anyone other than Natasha, and that was only because she was literally his adopted daughter.

 

The man pulled back, and Steve saw that he had expertly tousled blonde hair, a slightly wrinkled face, and startlingly blue eyes. They were the shade of blue that made Steve feel uncomfortable after too much eye contact.

 

(Really intense eye contact was definitely not Steve’s style.)

 

The man turned to Steve, smiling wanly. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but...”

 

Steve scowled. “If you’ve got something to say, say it,” he snapped, still feeling twitchy and angry.

 

The man chuckled, looking at Fury. “Oh, I like this one. Just as feisty as the reports claim.”

 

Steve tensed, jaw twitching in effort to hold back another comment.

 

“I’m Alexander Pierce, Bucky’s agent,” the man said, gesturing behind him.

 

Steve’s eyes followed the movement, and his stomach abruptly dropped as he took in the man standing quietly behind Pierce.

 

Bucky Barnes was, if possible, even more gorgeous in person. His hair was cut shorter than it had been for the action movie he’d just been in, looking the perfect combination between scruffy and polished. His broad shoulders were hunched in discomfort, his wide mouth pulled into a tight grimace.

 

Steve kept his newfound crisis of meeting the most attractive man he’d ever seen off of his face as he nodded at Barnes. Barnes hesitated before inclining his chin ever so slightly in acknowledgement.

 

“Please, have a seat,” Fury said with authority. “We have a lot to discuss.”

 

Pierce and Barnes sat in the two remaining chairs. Steve fumbled with his left hand to absentmindedly rearrange his utensils, trying to quell his nerves.

 

“Are we in agreement in regards to the plan?” Pierce asked lowly, although it seemed his question was only directed towards Fury.

 

Fury eyed him carefully. “Is Barnes capable of keeping him in line? And don’t bullshit me. I’ll find out if you do.”

 

Pierce’s eyes flicked over to Barnes, who was sitting next to Steve with a rigid posture, eyes trained on his empty plate.

 

“Bucky was a successful sergeant in the army. He’s handled arrogant kids before with a bigger bully complex than Rogers over there. I think he can handle one self-entitled actor,” Pierce said evenly.

 

Steve’s hand clenched into a fist, and he took a deep, controlling breath. Now was not the time to pick a fight.

 

Fury nodded and sat back, seemingly reassured.

 

“Now,” Pierce said, “Is Rogers going to be able to guarantee my client’s fame along with a positive image in the media?”

 

“Steve’s charmed the press before. He can do it again,” Fury said. “Barnes is going to have to meet him halfway on that one, though.”

 

“Bucky can be charismatic when he needs to be,” Pierce said evenly.

 

“Good.”

 

Pierce and Fury shook hands.

 

Steve had never felt more useless.

 

“Now, we just need to establish an effective backstory and a plan of action,” Pierce decided smoothly.

 

Fury finally turned to Steve. “When do you want to come out?” he asked.

 

Steve cringed at the thought. “Who’s my next interview with?”

 

Fury thought for a moment. “Brock Rumlow.”

 

“Pass.”

 

“After that, I think you’ve got Bruce Banner.”

 

“Done,” Steve decided immediately. Banner was one of Tony’s closest friends, and Tony’s judgment was sometimes even more selective than Steve’s. Steve knew he could probably trust the guy.

 

“Wait,” Barnes said, speaking for the first time since he’d arrived. His voice was a lot quieter and slightly rougher than it was when he was acting. “You’re coming out for this?” Steve thought he could pick up the edges of a Brooklyn accent underneath his words.

 

Steve lifted his uninjured shoulder. “Yeah.”

 

“Will that be a lie too?” Barnes asked, his voice hard.

 

“No. I’m _actually_ bisexual. You know, in real life.”

 

“And you want to come out?” Barnes continued.

 

“Not really,” Steve admitted, “But whatever. It has to be done.”

 

Barnes turned to his agent. “I’m not doing this,” he said.

 

Pierce looked at Barnes calmly, eyes going even colder than Steve had previously thought. “You are,” he informed him, “Unless you want to go back to the street corner I found you on.”

 

Barnes gritted his teeth. Steve saw his hands curl into fists.

 

The waiter walked to the table and asked for their drink orders. “Want some milk?” Pierce asked Barnes, a cruel smile curving onto his lips. “I know that’s what you like.”

 

Barnes shoved to his feet. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he muttered before stalking off.

 

Well. That had gone well.

 

Pierce continued ordering like nothing had happened while Fury shot Steve an unreadable look. Steve tried his best to convey his, _Even_ I _think this is a horrible idea_ , face. Fury steadfastly ignored it.

 

When Barnes returned, looking a little bit calmer but a little bit more deflated, the conversation turned back to business.

 

And, really, Steve knew that the plan was simple. It sounded almost too easy and too scripted.

 

However, as Steve looked carefully at Barnes and his submissive, silent frustration, he knew that the execution of the plan would be anything but simple.

 

Steve needed a drink.

 

* * *

 

 

“You should’ve seen his face,” Steve grumbled, staring angrily at the ceiling. “He was so _pissed_.”

 

Peggy made a humming noise in the back of her throat as she idly listened to his complaints.

 

“I mean, I know I’m kind of high-maintenance-“ Peggy gave a derisive snort, “-but it’s not like a fucking death sentence to have to pretend to be in love with me.”

 

“Steve, I know you’re upset,” Peggy began, “but you have to think about this from Barnes’ perspective as well.”

 

Steve sighed. “I’m trying.”

 

“DARLING,” Peggy called, not bothering to move from her position.

 

“YEAH, ENGLISH?” Angie called back from the other room.

 

“TELL STEVE HE’S A LOAD OF BULLOCKS.”

 

Angie skipped into the room, happily throwing herself on the couch, half on top of Peggy, who hardly reacted. “Steve, you’re a load of bullocks.”

 

Peggy nodded seriously. “You’re _not_ trying. Look, I know you’re the most selfless person on the planet, but right now, it doesn’t exactly seem like it.”

 

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Maybe those tabloids are getting to me more than I thought. Am I acting like an asshole? Please tell me I’m not conforming to their views of me,” Steve begged, instantly horrified by the thought.

 

Angie frowned, pointing at him. “For what it’s worth, Tumblr still sees you as a cinnamon roll. Or maybe it was a sinnamon roll? Hold on, I’ll check,” she announced, pulling out her phone.

 

Peggy gave her a mortified look. “Why in the name of god are you on Tumblr?”

 

Angie waved a hand dismissively. “This isn’t about me,” she said hurriedly. “This is about Steve’s self esteem.”

 

“My self esteem is fine,” Steve grumbled.

 

“It’s really not,” Peggy said softly.

 

Angie made a triumphant noise and tossed Steve her phone. “SEE! Sinnamon roll,” she said vehemently.

 

Steve looked at her helplessly. “I have no idea what that means.”

 

“Just look at the damn picture.”

 

Steve took the phone and looked at the post. There was a blurry picture of him from the bar fight, standing with his fists raised and his face beaten and bloody. The caption read: **I WAS THERE THE INTERNETS LYING TO YOU AND STEVE ROGERS IS A BEAUTIFUL SINNAMON ROLL TRYING TO HELP PEOPLE AND IS JUST THE HUMAN EMBODIMENT OF “FIGHT ME” ILL _FIGHT_ ANYONE ON THIS ONE TRUST ME #STEVE ROGERS DEFENSE SQUAD**

 

Steve put the phone down, face colored in embarrassment. “At least someone’s on your side,” Angie said happily.

 

Peggy wrapped an arm around her. “Darling, I don’t know if you’re helping.”

 

Angie huffed. “I just want him to know that his fans are giving him the benefit of the doubt.”

 

“Barnes isn’t,” Steve said. “He already hates me.”

 

“Steve,” Peggy said softly. “I know you hate this situation more than anything. You’re feeling used and helpless and not in control of anything. Am I right?”

 

“I guess,” Steve reluctantly conceded.

 

“Barnes probably feels exactly the same. Your agents forced both of you into this. I don’t think Barnes is resentful of you- just the situation. You still have a chance to make this experience as pleasant as possible.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve murmured, dragging a hand roughly over his face. “Yeah.”

 

“I KNOW WHAT’LL CHEER YOU UP!” Angie interjected excitedly, throwing her arms out and almost hitting Peggy in the face. “I stole a loaf of bread from Madame Fry’s this morning.”

 

Peggy gave her a fond smile. “You’ve got to stop doing that,” she said, but the chastisement was ineffective due to the laughter in her voice.

 

“Madame Fry is an asshole. I do what I want,” Angie said proudly.

 

Peggy tapped her on the nose. “So brave,” she teased.

 

“I’ll fight her,” Angie agreed.

 

“My hero.”

 

Steve cleared his throat. “I’m still here,” he reminded them.

 

Angie ducked her head shyly while Peggy gave him a glare. “I can make out with my wife in my apartment if I want to,” she said.

 

“Come on, English, you’re such a tease,” Angie muttered with an eye-roll.

 

Peggy leaned forward and pecked Angie on the lips. Angie tried to smother her smile but failed pretty badly. Steve rose to his feet. “I’ll get the bread.”

 

“YAS!” Angie screeched. “I’M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR BREAD.”

 

“Please stop speaking in meme,” Peggy groaned.

 

Steve shook his head fondly as he walked into the kitchen, the sound of Angie continuing to speak “in meme” following him.

 

And he’d never been more thankful for his friends than he was in that moment.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**GOSSIP COLUMN: Steve Rogers seen leaving an apartment building in the early hours of the morning! Could it be after a sleepover with his mysterious girlfriend?**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The interview with Brock Rumlow went about as expected.

 

He made some questionable statements and Steve awkwardly laughed them off while trying to gently correct his political incorrectness. This ended in Rumlow saying something even more questionable and Steve snapping, going on a rant about how ignorant Rumlow was, and doing no favors for Steve’s public image.

 

Whatever. He’d start trying to be charming _next_ interview.

 

Fury was still pissed, though, and threatened him repeatedly afterwards while Steve made a concentrated effort to pay attention.

 

 _Blah, blah, blah, at least make an effort to suck up to big-name assholes, blah, blah, blah, responsibilities and shit, blah, blah, recklessness, blah_.

 

It was all the same. Nothing Steve hadn’t heard before.

 

But he was coming out in about a week.

 

And everything made him on edge, so for once, he decided to let the criticism wash over him.

 

He was too stressed for anything else.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**BREAKING: Actor Steve Rogers angrily snaps at interviewer Brock Rumlow after an offensive comment about the Black Lives Matter protesters**

 

* * *

 

 

“I want to come out.”

 

Bruce Banner blinked in surprise from where he was standing behind his note cards. “You-“

 

“I want to come out as bisexual during your interview.”

 

Banner recovered quickly. “Right. Okay. We can do that.”

 

Steve rung his hands nervously, panic building in the pit of his throat as the lights came on for what was, quite possibly, the most important interview of his fucking life.

 

He forced himself to swallow. The movement felt more like choking than relief.

 

Banner asked questions about Steve’s new movie, where he played a super hero with the alias of Captain America. The movie was hitting theaters soon, and Steve was proud to say that he was actually really pleased with the results.

 

He got a little carried away talking about the complexity of the Captain’s character, but he didn’t reveal any spoilers, so he figured he was safe... for now.

 

Then, Banner changed the subject.

 

“So, Steve. There’s been quite a lot of speculation about what happened at that club in Brooklyn.”

 

Steve closed his eyes briefly. He wouldn’t defend himself. He’d just tell the truth.

 

“What really happened?” Banner pressed.

 

Steve offered a wan smile. “I wasn’t even sure why I went to that club. I was... lonely, I guess, but I didn’t even go there to socialize. I just wanted a drink. And I was watching the bar, when I saw this guy slip something into a drink he was about to hand to this girl.” Steve continued explaining the story, telling Banner about the group of guys that rose to defend the man’s right to drug a woman’s drink.

 

“Wow,” Bruce finally said, looking startled. “That’s... no wonder you sent them to the hospital.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “I heard they were only there for like an hour or two. The worst any of them got was a broken wrist, and that was from punching me. I, on the other hand, was literally thrown out a second-story window,” Steve said, gesturing to his cast.

 

“This is quite a different tale than the one that’s been assumed by the Internet.”

 

Steve pressed his lips together. “Well, it was all speculation anyway.”

 

“The Gossip Column thought you were being possessive over your girlfriend.” Ah, here was the Segway. “Do you even have a girlfriend right now?”

 

Steve pressed his hands into his thighs to hide their shaking. “No,” he said bluntly. “But I do have a boyfriend.”

 

The crowd literally gasped.

 

Banner smiled. “That’s great! What’s he like?”

 

Steve bit his lip, forcing a smile. “He’s an actor too. I don’t know if you guys know him yet. His name’s Bucky Barnes, and he used to serve in the military. He’s the best man I know.”

 

The audience cooed. “How’d you two meet?” Banner asked.

 

Steve remembered the backstory that Pierce and Fury had constructed. “Through our agents. Things just... spiraled out from there. I’m sure it annoyed the hell out of them too.”

 

“That sounds great,” Banner said softly. “To clarify, are you saying you’re gay?”

 

“I’m actually bisexual,” Steve said, relieved when his voice didn’t crack. Fuck, this was so much more difficult than he’d ever imagined.

 

“Why come out now?”

 

Steve took a deep breath. “Well, Bucky and I weren’t sure if things were serious enough until recently. We didn’t want to hide our relationship, and I figured that telling you guys directly would be more honest than having the press spill photos of us making out in public,” Steve said dryly.

 

Banner chuckled. “I’d have to agree with you on that. I’m happy for you two- you said things are serious?”

 

Steve nodded, but then kind of blanked on what Pierce and Fury had told him. He decided to go with his gut. “Um. Yeah. We’re, uh, moving in together,” he said nervously.

 

“Congrats!” Banner said, looking delighted. “Will we get to meet him?”

 

Steve forced a little laugh. “Hopefully soon enough.”

 

“Well, Steve, it’s been an honor. Thank you so much for coming on the show and sharing your honesty.”

 

“It was my pleasure,” Steve said, starting to feel a little sick.

 

Banner did his conclusion, and when the lights died and the applause faded, Steve practically stumbled to the nearest bathroom, shaking all over. He threw up in the toilet, and sat on the cold tiles for a very long time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**BREAKING: Actor Steve Rogers comes out as bisexual**

**NEW: Steve Rogers reveals boyfriend and his identity: Bucky Barnes, lead actor in _The Winter Soldier_**

**TRENDING: “I’M ACTUALLY BISEXUAL”**

**GOSSIP COLUMN: Steve Rogers’ bae checks out to be quite the hunk! Only one question remains: Who tops???**

 

* * *

 

 

When Steve came back to himself, he found Natasha rubbing small circles on his back, tears-stains stiff on his face, and his mind completely blank.

 

“Thanks,” he croaked, wincing at his stiff position. His breath reeked.

 

Natasha said nothing for a while. Then, “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

 

Steve couldn’t help it. His face crumpled and he choked on a sob, turning to tuck his face into Natasha’s neck. Natasha made a hushing noise, combing her fingers through his hair. “It’s okay,” she whispered, “I know, I know, it’s okay.”

 

When his hiccupping breaths finally calmed down, they remained in their position. Steve may have been over six feet tall with “a shoulder-to-waist ratio of a Dorito,” as Tony put it, but he still felt small enough that it was second nature to curl under Natasha.

 

“You did so well,” Natasha said quietly. “I’m so proud of you.”

 

“I hated that,” Steve murmured.

 

“I know you did.”

 

Steve finally straightened, rubbing at his cheeks as he got to his feet.

 

“Papa’s a little pissed about the moving in together comment, though. Apparently, it wasn’t part of the original plan.”

 

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, I fucked up on that one.”

 

“You and Barnes are going to have to be roommates if you’re going to commit to the lie,” Natasha said softly.

 

Steve scowled. “Figures.”

 

Natasha had risen to her feet as well and grabbed Steve’s shoulders, eying him critically. “Come on. I’ll do your makeup so that it looks like you haven’t been crying. Then we’ll get the hell out of here and go to your apartment. Watch Netflix and eat ice cream.”

 

“Thanks, Nat.”

 

She smiled. “It’s what I’m here for.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Barnes grumbled irritably. “Why the fuck did you have to say that?”

 

Steve bristled. “Look, it’s not like rooming with me is going to be the end of the damn world.”

 

“You sure about that?”

 

“For fuck’s sake, Barnes, if you hate me so much, why did you agree to pretending to love me?” Steve snapped, throwing his arms out.

 

“It’s not like I had a fucking choice in the matter,” Barnes growled, angrily storming into Steve’s apartment. “I feel fucking violated.”

 

This was the most emotion Steve had ever seen Barnes genuinely display, and it was kind of turning him on, in a weird, twisted sort of way.

 

(Steve needed a drink. Or maybe sex. God, what was wrong with him?)

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve snapped, “But it’s not like I’m all in favor of our situation either. I feel like a damn dog on a leash.”

 

“That’s because you’re the most reckless, irresponsible, dumbass person on the planet.”

 

(Okay, but why was that so hot?)

 

Steve gritted his teeth. “I do what I do to help people.”

 

Barnes scoffed. “For real? Is that what helps you sleep at night? _Helping_ people.” Barnes stalked towards him and jabbed him hard in the chest. “Violence doesn’t fucking help people.”

 

(Steve kind of wanted to make out with his face.)

 

“It gets things done.”

 

“It does nothing.”

 

“Is this what the damn army taught you?” Steve demanded.

 

Barnes shook his head. “Don’t make this about me. This is about your skewed principles. That damn interview you did with Bruce fucking Banner? Jesus Christ, could you be a bigger liar? You’re so damn manipulative, and you make me sick.”

 

Steve reared back in surprise, and when he spoke, his voice came out quiet and uncertain. “You thought... you thought I was lying for the whole interview?”

 

Barnes looked like he was unsure of his footing now. “Well, yeah?”

 

Steve shook his head, trying to force the hurt off his expression, but he probably wasn’t doing a great job. “The only thing I lied about was our fake relationship. I- I don’t lie.”

 

“That story about the club was true?” Barnes asked, sounding almost shocked.

 

“Um. Yes.”

 

Barnes leaned heavily against the countertop, looking suddenly exhausted. “Nobody is like that in real life. What the fuck?”

 

Steve shrugged helplessly. “Sorry?”

 

“This is unbelievable,” he grumbled. “I’ve literally been shoved together with the most chivalrous asshole in the world.”

 

Frowning, Steve said, “I resent that.”

 

Barnes slunk down until he was sitting on Steve’s kitchen floor. “What even is my life?” he said hysterically to the ceiling. “I’m rooming with Steve fucking Rogers, and so far it sucks.”

 

Steve dropped to sit on the floor across from Barnes. “If we don’t at least try to get along, the next few months are going to be absolute shit,” he started evenly.

 

Barnes scowled.

 

“So we’re going to clear things up. Right now. With complete, brutal honesty. And then we’re going to move on, and we’re going to try to be friends.”

 

Barnes sighed, pressing a hand into his face. “Fine.”

 

“Great. I’ll start. I know you hate me, and it kind of hurts.”

 

Barnes grimaced. “I don’t hate you. I don’t even know you.”

 

Steve shrugged. “Sure you do. You know my name is Steve, and that we’re only pretend-boyfriends. You knew that I was bisexual before the majority of the world, and you know that I’m- how did you put it? A ‘chivalrous asshole?’”

 

Barnes winced. “I hate this. Fuck, I’m just going to-“ He took a deep breath, and stuck out his hand. “I’m Bucky.”

 

Steve gave a tentative, confused smile before awkwardly reaching out with his uninjured arm and patting Bucky’s hand. “I’m Steve.”

 

“I’m Bucky,” Bucky repeated, “And I was a prisoner of war in Afghanistan. I got hurt real bad, and when I came back home, everything sucked. I had nothing, and then all of a sudden, there was Alexander Pierce. And he made something out of me, but I’m not sure if I want any of it.”

 

“I’m Steve,” Steve said, “And I grew up tiny and sick all the time with only my mom to take care of me. When I finally got bigger, I was... in an accident. And I was so fucking alone. My girlfriend had just left me for a job in England, and I didn’t have any friends of my own, but then I recovered, and I started to act. I made a name for myself, and the media is constantly trying to pollute it. And I fucking hate being famous.”

 

“I wish I never came back home,” Bucky whispered.

 

“I wish I was invisible,” Steve added.

 

They stared at each other for a long time.

 

“The reason I’ve been so awful to you has nothing to do with you and everything to do with Pierce,” Bucky finally said. “I don’t want to be famous. I just want to be.”

 

Steve swallowed heavily. “I had a panic attack after the interview with Bruce Banner.”

 

Bucky laughed humorlessly. “I have nightmares.”

 

“I know the feeling.”

 

Bucky lowered his gaze. “We’re a huge mess.”

 

“Yeah. Maybe we can make something decent out of it.”

 

“Maybe,” Bucky agreed.

 

“I want to be your friend,” Steve said, going for blunt honesty. “I’m going to be miserable if you don’t try to make something work.”

 

Bucky nodded tiredly. “Yeah. I can do that. You sound like the type of person who, under normal circumstances, would be my friend.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Bucky offered a half-hearted smirk. “My only other friend in the world got beat up by the Russian mafia and bought a building from them because it would save a handful of people. He takes in strays all the time and never expects anything good to happen for himself.”

 

“He sounds like a good guy,” Steve said.

 

“Yeah. He’s a fucking idiot, but he’s a good guy.”

 

“You should meet my friends sometime,” Steve told him mildly, “They’re weird, but you’d like them.”

 

“How’d you figure that?”

 

“You’re grumpy and kind of an asshole. So are Nat and Tony. Peggy and Angie are less so, but they’re still weird, and you’re actually kind of really similar to Peggy. And everybody loves Sam... They’d like you too.”

 

Bucky nodded. “I’m a little tired,” he murmured, slumping down on the kitchen floor.

 

Steve’s eyes lit up. “Hold on. I have an idea. A bonding exercise.”

 

Bucky raised an unimpressed eyebrow and Steve flushed.

 

“Not- not that kind of bonding. Like. Friends. Hold on-“ Steve got to his feet and ran to his linen closet, yanking out all the blankets and pillows he owned.

 

He heard footsteps behind him. “Um. What are you doing?”

 

“We’re going to make a blanket fort,” Steve declared. “And we’re going to have a slumber party.

 

Bucky’s lips quirked. “A slumber party?”

 

“Yes.”

 

That was how they found themselves nestled under the darkness of a blanket sky, comfortably lying on a floor of pillows.

 

“This is perfect,” Bucky whispered, sounding vaguely surprised.

 

Steve grinned uncertainly at him. “You like it?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Steve fell asleep to the sound of Bucky’s breathing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

And he woke up to the sound of a startled whimper.

 

He blinked, a little disoriented, before remembering building the blanket fort with Bucky... Bucky- Bucky was the one who’d made that noise.

 

Steve rolled onto his side and put a hand on Bucky’s arm. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re in my apartment. Blanket fort, remember?”

 

Bucky’s wide, fearful eyes flickered over to him, and he relaxed incrementally. “Keep talking,” he said roughly, letting a shudder roll down his body.

 

Steve absentmindedly rubbed his hand up and down Bucky’s arm as he spoke, telling random stories about high school or Tony or Peggy and Angie. Anything to keep that scared look off of Bucky’s face.

 

After a few stories, Bucky sort of just... melted into the cushions. “You okay?” Steve asked quietly, concern painting his words.

 

Bucky nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m- I’m good, Steve.”

 

“Anything else I can do?”

 

Bucky looked over at him, seeming almost embarrassed. “Your breathing- it helps.”

 

Steve laid back down and grabbed Bucky’s hand, placing it on his chest so that he could feel his steady heartbeat. “Concentrate on the rhythm,” he advised softly to Bucky’s surprised look. All Steve knew was that heartbeats sometimes helped during a panic attack.

 

After a while, Bucky relaxed, and his breathing evened out. Steve felt relieved.

 

And Bucky’s hand stayed loosely curled on his chest for the rest of the night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**NEW: Actor Steve Rogers loses the cast for the start of his _Howling Commandos_ press tour**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Steve was actually kind of sad to leave home for the press tour.

 

And that wasn’t because home didn’t seem so lonely anymore or anything.

 

(Except maybe it was.)

 

But Bucky’s presence felt solid and warm. Bucky had his own room and his own bed, and they didn’t have a repeat of the blanket fort, but it was all kind of startlingly domestic.

 

Bucky was adorably grumpy in the mornings. His only form of communication before he had his coffee was a series on noncommittal grunts. His hair was always a mess and Steve had to fight very hard not to reach over and smooth it down.

 

And they were kind of friends now.

 

They got along almost shockingly well after clearing up their mutual frustration. Silences didn’t feel awkward and conversation didn’t feel stilted and Steve really liked him.

 

Having Bucky in his apartment felt like coming home, as cheesy as that sounded.

 

When did Steve become such a damn sap?

 

His cast was off now, and his arm still felt vaguely sore and weird, but he was glad for the freedom of movement. Bucky hovered in the kitchen as Steve dragged his suitcase to the door.

 

“Hey, I’ll see you when I get back to New York for the premier,” Steve said, pausing in the doorway.

 

Bucky smirked. “You askin’ me to be your date, Rogers?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “You think you’re funny,” he said dryly.

 

“Oh, hey. In case I fuck up the apartment, I put my number in your phone,” Bucky said with practiced casualty.

 

Steve fished his phone out of his pocket and, sure enough, Bucky’s number was there. “Really?” he deadpanned as he turned the phone around for Bucky to look at the contact.

 

Bucky maintained a straight face. “What?” he asked innocently.

 

Steve cleared his throat and read the contact name. “Sergeant Booty Bae-rnes?”

 

“That’s my name, ain’t it?” Bucky managed, a grin slipping through his features.

 

Steve huffed a laugh. “Sure thing, Buck. And please, don’t fuck up the apartment while I’m gone.”

 

“No promises,” Bucky said, giving a mock salute.

 

Steve shut the door, and that would be the last he’d see Bucky for a week.

 

* * *

 

 

“Rogers,” Fury said. “How’s paradise?”

 

Steve crossed his arms, leveling him with a look. “You’re funny,” he said sarcastically. “Forcing me to move in with a stranger is totally paradise. Sure.”

 

Fury pursed his lips. “You and I both know that was your fault.”

 

Steve sighed, shrugging with both shoulders, just because he could now. “Bucky’s a fine enough roommate, though.” He was amazing. “If only he could fucking _cook_.” Bucky couldn’t cook for shit, but Steve still ate his food when he offered.

 

Fury looked vaguely smug. “So he’s ‘Bucky’ now?”

 

“Well, he’s my roommate. It’d be weird to keep calling him ‘Barnes.’”

 

Fury watched him carefully for a moment, then seemed to find whatever he was looking for in Steve’s face as he sat back. “You watch your back,” he said without looking at Steve.

 

Steve was a little confused, but didn’t let that push him into asking Fury what he meant. Instead, he waited in jittery silence for the plane to take off.

 

Steve wasn’t a huge fan of planes... or heights at all to be honest.

 

He took a few sleeping pills and managed to sleep through most of it in blissful nothingness.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**GOSSIP COLUMN: _Howling Commandos_ press tour kicks off as Steve Rogers attends first panel in a _gorgeous_ suit!  Click here to see attached image.**

 

* * *

 

 

Steve hated public appearances.

 

They always exhausted him to no end, so as he got to his hotel and face planted on his bed for the night, he didn’t really feel like doing anything for the rest of forever.

 

Steve fished his phone out of his pocket and saw he had a few texts. Two from his group text with Angie and Peggy, three from Tony, and one from “Sergeant Booty Bae-rnes.”

 

ANGIE: BEAUTIFUL SINNAMON ROLL YOU NAILED THE PANEL I LOVE YOU

 

PEGGY: Darling stop shouting

 

Steve chuckled softly and tapped out a grateful reply.

 

TONY: Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you had a damn boyfriend????

 

TONY: Who the hell is Bucky???

 

TONY: What the fuuuuuuck Steve

 

Uh oh.

 

Steve forgot to tell Tony.

 

He cringed, and sent a message back.

 

STEVE: ...sorry?

 

He hoped that would suffice. He didn’t exactly feel like announcing the whole fake dating thing right now. That could be tabled for a later date. Steve knew that Tony would get it though. Tony understood a lot of things, especially Steve’s more unsavory qualities.

 

Then, he looked at the message from Bucky.

 

There was a selfie of Bucky sitting on the couch with a bag of popcorn, smirking at the camera.

 

Steve was going to faint.

 

SERGEANT BOOTY: Got so bored without your ugly mug around the house that I’m actually WATCHING your ugly mug on TV.

 

Before he could think better of it, Steve rolled over on the bed and took a selfie of himself raising an eyebrow.

 

STEVE: Wow I didn’t know you cared

 

Steve was briefly distracted from his nervous wait of Bucky’s reply when Tony sent him rapid-fire texts of the poop emoji.

 

Steve hated everything.

 

But then, another text from Bucky came in. No selfie this time. Steve told himself he wasn’t disappointed.

 

SERGEANT BOOTY: I /don’t/ care. I was bored

 

STEVE: Suuuuuure

 

SERGEANT BOOTY: You look tired

 

STEVE: Yeah I am

 

SERGEANT BOOTY: Go to sleep Steve

 

STEVE: But Buuuuuckyyyyyy

 

SERGEANT BOOTY: Steeeeeevieeeee

 

SERGEANT BOOTY: Go the fuck to sleep :)

 

SERGEANT BOOTY: Or I’ll piss on the couch :)

 

STEVE: What the fuck man

 

SERGEANT BOOTY: :)

 

Steve sent him a gif of Jack Sparrow that he felt was appropriate for the situation before doing as Bucky suggested (threatened?) and going to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The press tour kind of sucked.

 

Not only did he have to fly, sometimes twice a day, but he also had to talk to crowds and sign autographs all the time.

 

And Steve loved his fans. They could just be a little overwhelming sometimes.

 

He also didn’t have any friends with him. Sure, he got along with the cast, but it was a coworkers’ relationship.

 

(Steve also missed Bucky a little bit.)

 

His nerves were fried.

 

That was probably why he ended up doing what he did.

 

He was strolling around Paris after the day’s interview (with- surprise- MORE QUESTIONS ABOUT WHAT HE AND BUCKY DID IN BED), and taking in all the sights.

 

Steve saw the teenager smacking a little boy across the face and couldn’t stop himself before he was walking towards them.

 

“Hey,” Steve snapped, trying to remember his French from college as he said, “<What’s going on here?>” His accent was horrible.

 

The teenager looked up at him, dropping the front of the little boy’s shirt. “<Fuck you. Just walk away.>”

 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “<Watch your damn language and help that boy to his feet.>”

 

The teenager jutted out his chin. He was almost as tall as Steve. “<I am not scared of you.>”

 

“<You should be.>”

 

And that was how he found himself getting punched in the face by a guy who was probably a full decade younger than him. The guy ran off as Steve held his stinging face, and extended a hand to help up the smaller boy.

 

The smaller boy got to his feet. “Thank you,” he said in a heavy French accent before turning on heel and running in a different direction.

 

Steve was still clutching his face when he got back to the hotel, and Fury almost instantly intercepted him, jamming a phone screen into his face lividly.

 

* * *

 

 

**BREAKING: Steve Rogers assaults teenager in Paris**

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky called him about five minutes later.

 

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” he snapped, voice a little crackly over the phone.

 

“Well hello to you too, honey,” Steve muttered.

 

“You picked a fight with a fucking teenager?” Bucky yelled.

 

Steve sighed, staring at his hotel mirror in disgust. “For the record, I only told him to stop being a fucking bully. He’s the one who hit me.”

 

“Fucking hell,” Bucky despaired. “I leave you alone for not even a week and-“

 

“Bucky,” Steve said quietly, and Bucky went silent. “I have a lot of people really angry with me right now,” oh god why was his voice wobbling, “and I don’t think I need you angry at me too.”

 

There was a staticy pause.

 

“Christ, Stevie, I’m not really _angry_ with you,” Bucky said.

                                

Steve’s forehead thunked onto the cool surface of the mirror.

 

“I’m worried. I don’t want people to think you go around beating up teens. You’re- you’re a good person, and it makes me so angry when people paint you as some kind of fucking _bully_.”

 

“Buck,” Steve said. “The people who are important to me know that I’m not a bully.” He faltered. “I’m not, right?”

 

“God, of course not. Don’t ever think that for one damn second,” Bucky said fiercely.

 

Steve took a shaky breath. His voice cracked when he said, “I wanna go _home_.”

 

“I know,” Bucky murmured. “I’ll be right here when you get back, okay? Two more days.”

 

“Two more days.”

 

“You can do this.”

 

Steve shook his head. “I fucking hate this.”

 

“I know. It’s almost over, Stevie. It’s almost over.”

 

Steve stumbled into his bedroom and hit the mattress hard as he fell. “I wish you were here,” he said without thinking.

 

Bucky scoffed. “Why? So I could make faces at you during interviews and suggestively wink when they ask about our sex life?”

 

Steve’s lips quirked upwards. “You’ve been watching them?”

 

“Of course I have. It brightens my day to see you fake-gush about me.”

 

There was a pause. “Hey, Buck?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“We’re friends, right?”

 

There was a slight pause. “Yeah, Stevie. We’re friends.”

 

Steve yawned. “That’s good. I think I like being your friend. I like it a lot.”

 

He heard Bucky chuckle. “Go to sleep.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I’ll see you in two days.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Don’t get yourself killed before then.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Good night, Steve.”

 

“Good night, Bucky.”

 

* * *

 

 

Two days did not go by quickly enough.

 

When Steve finally got back to New York, exhausted and trying not to cry, he almost forgot that his movie premier and his and Bucky’s first appearance as a couple was tomorrow.

 

Steve slunk into the apartment, dropping his luggage unceremoniously on the floor. At the noise, Bucky sprang out of the kitchen, cutting knife raised dangerously in his hand. When he saw Steve, though, he instantly dropped his arm and broke into a grin. “You’re home!”

 

Steve smiled tiredly, less horrified than he should be for having a knife pointed at him. “It appears so.”

 

Bucky dropped the knife on the counter and approached Steve, throwing his arms around his neck. “Welcome back, you dork. We’re watching bad romance movies in your big comfy bed tonight.”

 

“Do I have any say in this?” Steve asked, trying and failing not to physically melt into Bucky’s embrace.

 

“Nope.”

 

“You’re certainly in a cheery mood,” Steve said, kind of dumbly happy.

 

Bucky smiled. “Well, you’re home. The planets have aligned, everything fell back into place, all that jazz.”

 

Steve’s cheeks warmed. “I’m so happy to be back.”

 

“I know,” Bucky said softly. “Go change into your sweats. We have a date with Nicholas Sparks movies.”

 

Steve tried not to think too hard about the exact diction of that sentence as he padded into his bedroom and did as Bucky asked. Bucky walked in a moment later with his laptop and flopped casually onto Steve’s bed.

 

Steve fell asleep about twenty minutes into the first movie, Bucky’s adorable giggles fading away.

 

When he woke up, it was dark and quiet and so comfortably warm. Steve made a soft noise as he shifted towards the warmth.

 

An arm tightened around his chest.

 

Steve opened his eyes.

 

Bucky was asleep, head pillowed on his collarbone and arm thrown across his body. Their legs were tangled together, and Steve’s face went hot as he realized that there was a bit of a _problem_ between his thighs.

 

But Bucky’s lips were parted ever so slightly and his face looked so soft and slack and untroubled.

 

And Steve wanted to wake him up with his tongue.

 

Or something.

 

This was going to become a problem.

 

(This felt so _nice_.)

 

Steve wrapped his arms more securely around Bucky, who did this kind of snuffly thing in his sleep, and it was the cutest thing Steve had ever seen in his entire life.

 

As Steve dozed back off, warm and happy and safe, he thought, _Oh shit- is this a crush?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was a fucking crush.

 

Steve had come to this conclusion when he’d blearily watched Bucky sit up, hair sticking up atrociously as he scowled at the room.

 

“Morning,” Steve said.

 

Bucky grunted irritably, climbing uncoordinatedly over Steve to get off the bed.

 

Steve couldn’t help but stare at Bucky’s ass as he stumbled from the room, presumably to get coffee.

 

It was such a fucking crush.

 

Steve was having a little bit of a crisis of the soul, and he didn’t know what to do. He grabbed his phone and typed out a frantic text to Natasha.

 

STEVE: HELP I THINK I ACTUALLY LIKE HIM AS MORE THAN A FRIEND

 

The reply came thankfully quickly.

 

NATASHA: Wow. Such middle school. Very drama. Much make out. ;)

 

STEVE: NAT THIS IS SERIOUS

 

Natasha just sent him the gif of Frodo intensely putting his finger into the ring.

 

This was a lost cause.

 

Steve took a steadying breath before following Bucky into the kitchen.

 

Bucky’s face was pressed into the table as he waited for the coffee to brew.

 

“You okay?” Steve asked.

 

“Mmfgmm,” Bucky groaned.

 

Steve tried not thinking about kissing him.

 

(HE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE SO ATTRACTIVE IN THE MORNING.)

 

(WHO MANAGED TO BE ATTRACTIVE WHILE THEY WERE SO GRUMPY?)

 

(DAMMIT.)

 

The coffee maker beeped, and Bucky rose from his seat as if he was rising from his grave. When he took his first sip (Bucky was one of those pretentious dickheads who pretended to like his coffee black), he looked like the heavens had personally opened up for him. Bucky didn’t speak until he finished his coffee, as per usual.

 

“I don’t think the sun is on my schedule,” he grumbled.

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t think the sun needs to check with you.”

 

Bucky glared at the table, and then got up to pour another cup of coffee.

 

Steve’s phone buzzed. Natasha was sending him that suggestive moon emoji en masse.

 

Steve sighed, dropping his head onto his elbows.

 

Bucky nudged his arm, and he looked up to see a ceramic mug being shoved in his face. Steve wordlessly took the cup, looking down to see that it already had what looked to be the right amount of cream and sugar. “I made your sugary death trap,” Bucky muttered, not looking at him.

 

“Thanks,” Steve said, cheeks warm.

 

“Who’s texting you?”

 

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Natasha.”

 

Bucky peaked at the screen to see more of the moon emojis pop up. “That sounds serious,” he observed.

 

“Natasha does love her emojis,” Steve said with a mild shrug.

 

“Moon emoji means a lot of shit though,” Bucky pressed.

 

“Moon emoji means I’m getting laughed at,” Steve said, shaking his head.

 

Bucky didn’t look convinced, but sat back, lifting a shoulder.

 

“You know,” he started, eyes sliding over to Steve uncertainly, “We’ll probably have to kiss tonight.”

 

Steve blinked.

 

Right.

 

There was also that.

 

(How the fuck did Steve manage to fall for one of the most idiotic romantic tropes in history? His life was a trope. He was so predictable. He wanted to burry himself in kittens to drown the mortification of his own corny predictability. A FUCKING PRETEND RELATIONSHIP??? WHAT HAD HE BEEN THINKING???)

 

“Yeah,” Steve said nervously. “I’m sorry you have to do that.”

 

Bucky waved a hand dismissively. “I was just reasoning that I don’t want it to be a surprise or anything. We’re supposed to be in love and domestic and shit. If we kiss, we shouldn’t look like we’re kissing for the first time.”

 

Holy fuck.

 

“Right,” Steve said slowly.

 

Bucky got to his feet and patted Steve on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth. You go too. We’re gonna figure this out.”

 

Ho-ly fuck.

 

Steve locked himself in his bathroom and called Natasha. “ _We’re going to practice kissing_ ,” he hissed into the receiver as soon as she picked up.

 

Natasha laughed. “You’re so fucked.”

 

“What do I do?” he asked frantically. “I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Don’t get a boner?” Natasha suggested half-heartedly.

 

“ _Nat_.”

 

“Fine, fine. Just. Play it cool. Follow his lead. If he laughs it off, pretend you’re not dying inside. If it gets all intense and romantic, try sucking his dick.”

 

Steve took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m going to brush my teeth now.”

 

“Have fun.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

The line went dead.

 

Steve walked out of the bathroom and into the family room to find Bucky sprawled easily on the couch. He looked up when Steve came in. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” Steve said, surprised he didn’t sound like a dying whale.

 

Bucky outstretched his arm towards Steve, so Steve took his hand and sat down next to him. “Alright, let’s do this,” Bucky said, straightening a little. “Can I kiss you?”

 

“Um. Go for it.”

 

“Okay,” Bucky said, and leaned in.

 

Bucky’s lips were soft and pillowy against his, providing the perfect amount of pressure as they molded perfectly to Steve’s mouth.

 

His eyes fluttered shut almost involuntarily.

 

Bucky leaned back. “Good?” he asked. Steve was definitely imagining the slight strain to his voice.

 

“Uh. Yeah. Good,” Steve managed.

 

“Can I?” Bucky asked, already leaning forward again.

 

“Yeah.”

 

The second kiss was a little firmer, and Bucky wasted no time before tracing his tongue along the seam of Steve’s lips. Steve choked back a groan, opening his mouth to give in fully.

 

Bucky tasted like his toothpaste, and the kiss was soft and slow- almost too tender. It could’ve lasted hours, but it was probably only about a minute before they pulled back, faces flushed. “Alright?” Bucky asked, voice almost sinfully low.

 

“Yep,” Steve said, and his voice did come out a little strangled.

 

Bucky stood abruptly, clearing his throat. “Okay. Glad that’s settled. I’m going to take a shower,” he said, and bolted from the room.

 

Steve leaned back on the couch heavily, staring blankly into space for a few long minutes.

 

His phone buzzed.

 

NATASHA: How’s the dick sucking going?

 

STEVE: Very funny.

 

Natasha sent him a gif of Abraham Lincoln’s face morphing over time; only, it looked like he was smirking suggestively at him

 

Steve was so fucked.

 

* * *

 

 

**TRENDING: Are you ready for _Howling Commandos_? #tonight**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Bucky was wearing a suit.

 

The premier was tonight.

 

Steve was going crazy.

 

And Bucky was wearing a damn suit.

 

“What?” Bucky asked, bristling visibly. “Do I have something on my face? Do I not match?”

 

Steve blinked rapidly, then nodded jerkily, dropping his gaze. “No- it’s. You just. You look good, Buck.”

 

Steve wanted to slam his head into a wall.

 

He heard Bucky let out a breath. “I tried to reach ‘arm-piece’ level fashion.”

 

Steve snorted, relaxing slightly. “I think we can work with that.”

 

Bucky’s eyes were twinkling. “I hope so.”

 

“Our limo gets here in fifteen minutes. Enjoy your last moments of peace,” Steve said, dropping heavily onto the couch, exhausted just by thinking about the evening.

 

Bucky sat down next to him. “Pal, you _know_ I’ll make it more bearable than whatever shit you had to deal with on your press tour.”

 

Steve let his head loll to look at Bucky. He batted his eyelashes. “Aw, you do care.”

 

Bucky grinned, shoving his shoulder. “Shut up.”

 

“Make me,” Steve muttered.

 

Bucky gave him a wicked look.

 

A thrill went through Steve’s gut.

 

“You wanna say that again, Rogers?” Bucky said, dropping his voice low.

 

Steve swallowed, opening his mouth to repeat himself, when his phone started to ring loudly. He jumped to his feet, suddenly flustered. “Phone!”

 

Bucky gave him a weird look.

 

“Rogers. Your transportation’s here,” the voice on the other end of the line said.

 

Steve paused. “Tony, please tell me you’re not in there.”

 

“I am. I also want answers. Get your asses down here,” Tony said flippantly before hanging up.

 

Steve sighed, turning to Bucky. “Limo’s here. Also my invasive friend, but that’s fine.”

 

Bucky stretched as he stood, and Steve’s eyes trailed after the movement. “’Kay,” Bucky groaned. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

 

As they approached the limo, Tony rolled down the window. He was wearing sunglasses and smirking at them. God, he was so typical. “Theeeeere’s my favorite movie star!” Tony shouted, making finger guns at Steve.

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “As if. I know for a fact that you’re much more of a fan of Thor Odinson.”

 

“In my defense, have you seen his arms?” Tony said.

 

Steve felt a tug on his arm, and turned around to see Bucky staring wide-eyed at Tony. “Um. Steve. You didn’t tell me your invasive friend was _Tony Stark_.”

 

Steve frowned. “I didn’t?”

 

Bucky shook his head, looking almost numb.

 

“Oh. Sorry. Bucky, this is Tony. Tony, this is Bucky.”

 

“Hey,” Tony said, looking at Bucky critically.

 

Bucky made a choked squeaking noise.

 

Steve turned to face Bucky fully. “Oh my god. Are you a Stark groupie?”

 

Bucky’s face reddened. “I- absolutely not!” he squawked, a little too loudly. Then, he yanked down on Steve’s shoulder so that he could press his lips to Steve’s ear and hiss, “Tony Stark is just, you know, my fucking hero.”

 

Steve couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. “Him?” he demanded, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

 

Bucky stared furiously at the ground. “Forget it.”

 

“No, Buck, no. I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry. Tony and I have just been friends since fucking high school. It’s so weird when people idolize him. I’m sorry,” Steve said, managing to wipe the laughter out of his voice.

 

Bucky rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself as he shoved past Steve to get into the limo. Steve followed.

 

“So,” Tony began as they drove off. “Tell me what the fuck is up.”

 

Steve let himself sink into the cushions of the car. “Our agents forced us to pretend to be in a relationship after I got thrown out that window.”

 

Bucky gave him a look. “Jesus fucking Christ, Steve, you can’t just deal out the secret to _everyone_.”

 

Steve sighed. “I’m only telling the people I trust.”

 

“Ooooooh Mama Rogers trusts me?” Tony crowed. “Jarvis, did you get that?” he asked the ceiling. “Please tell me you got that.”

 

“I did, sir,” Jarvis said from the ceiling, and Bucky jerked back in his seat.

 

“Oh. Jarvis. This is Steve’s pal. Steve’s buddy,” Tony announced breezily, waving a hand.

 

“I’m Bucky,” Bucky supplied.

 

“Steve’s Bucky,” Tony corrected, pulling out his phone.

 

“Hello, sir,” Jarvis said.

 

Bucky continued staring at the ceiling. “Is he some sort of AI?” he asked in wonder.

 

“Indeed,” Jarvis said.

 

Bucky made this adorably excited face, nose scrunching as he looked at Steve.

 

“What are we on our way to?” Tony asked distractedly, not looking up.

 

Steve tried not to roll his eyes again. “Who are you texting?”

 

“Pepper. The bae. The misses. Virginia Potts-Stark,” Tony declared, still tapping away.

 

“Give her my love,” Steve said.

 

Tony finally looked up. “That’s disgusting, Rogers. I, for one, am appalled that a Good Samaritan like you with a fake boyfriend and everything would suggest such a thing. Shame on you. On that note, Pepper and I are always down for threesomes.” His gaze slid to Bucky. “Or foursomes.”

 

Bucky choked on his next breath. Steve just shook his head. “Tony, no.”

 

“Tony, yes. Where are we headed?”

 

“My premier,” Steve said.

 

“Right. That. I hear you’re very patriotic in this one,” Tony muttered to himself, chuckling dryly.

 

Steve sat up straighter. “But, no- the beauty of the whole thing is that Captain America isn’t necessarily patriotic. He just-“

 

“Whoa, spoilers!” Tony screeched, dropping his phone to clap his hands over his ears.

 

Steve gave Bucky a look. “This is what I have to deal with.”

 

“You _love_ me.”

 

“I deny having ever said that.”

 

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Jarvis? Initiate playback 0196427.”

 

“Very well, sir,” Jarvis said before Steve’s voice was projecting from the ceiling. “ _Tony, you’re an asshole, but I still love you_.”

 

Tony pointed a single finger upwards. “Science.”

 

Steve dropped his head into his hands.

 

“That’s amazing,” Bucky whispered in awe.

 

“You can keep him,” Tony said smugly. “I’ve decided I like him.”

 

“That’s good to hear,” Bucky said faintly.

 

“By the way, I thought it would be polite to inform you that I may or may not have Internet-stalked you,” Tony told Bucky.

 

There was a pause. Steve looked up, and Bucky’s expression was a little more closed off. “Find anything interesting?”

 

“Oh, loads of things,” Tony said but didn’t offer anything else.

 

Bucky sagged back in his seat.

 

“I believe we’ve arrived, sir,” Jarvis piped in helpfully.

 

Steve squared his shoulders.

 

This was it.

 

* * *

 

 

**BREAKING: Steve Rogers and boyfriend Bucky Barnes arrive at _Howling Commandos_ premier**

 

* * *

 

 

The camera flashes were the first thing Steve saw.

 

He took a readying breath, smiling tentatively as he stepped out of the limo. He turned back around, offering a hand for Bucky to grab. When Bucky hauled himself out of the limo, he gave Steve a slightly frazzled look before linking their fingers and squeezing comfortingly.

 

“You ready for this?” he asked, leaning in close to Steve’s ear.

 

Steve shrugged. “It’s now or never.”

 

The reporters that lined the red carpet all wanted some sort of statement and were pretty much shouting all at once. Steve stepped up to face them and said, “Could you guys please ask one at a time?”

 

A silence only interrupted by murmurs and camera shutters fell as all the reporters raised their hands. Steve pointed to one at random.

 

“What would you like to tell your fans about this movie?”

 

Steve felt blessed for the actually relevant question. He grinned. “I cannot wait to see what they think, especially about the character I play and about the ending. God, the ending, guys. You have no idea,” Steve said, thinking back to the final scene in the film.

 

Bucky swatted him on the arm. “Dude. Spoilers.”

 

“I didn’t spoil anything!” Steve said defensively.

 

“Rogers, is that your boyfriend?” one of the reporters blurted out.

 

“Yeah,” Steve answered with a little smile.

 

Bucky gave a little wave. “Hi.”

 

“How’s the relationship going since you two have moved in together?” another reporter asked.

 

Bucky snorted. “Well, everything would be great if Mr. Cleanliness over here didn’t try and reorganize everything I touch.”

 

Steve frowned. “That’s because you mess everything up. And if we’re talking about this sort of thing, why don’t we bring up how much of an absolute mess you are in the mornings.”

 

“I am _not_.”

 

“Buck, I’m pretty sure you elbowed me in the crotch this morning on your way to get coffee,” Steve deadpanned.

 

Bucky looked a little horrified. “I did? Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

 

“That’s fucking adorable,” one of the reporters whispered.

 

Steve laughed a little. “Not as adorable as Bucky. Just look at him.” There were a few aw’s from their small audience. Bucky scrunched up his nose, and Steve pointed delightedly at him. “Did you guys see that? Every time he gets attention or he gets excited, he does this little scrunchy thing with his nose. It’s so cute.”

 

Bucky smoothed his face back out with extreme effort. “I... don’t do that.”

 

“You do,” Steve giggled.

 

“Well, it’s not as cute as when you’re concentrating on something and you make that one face.” Steve frowned speculatively. “THAT FACE!” Bucky announced triumphantly, grinning. “See the little wrinkle on his forehead? He looks so serious and judgmental at the same time. So damn cute.”

 

They stared at each other for a moment before a reporter cleared their throat and they turned back, a little sheepishly. Steve pointed at another one with his hand raised.

 

“Rogers, would you say you came out to make a statement?”

 

Steve’s good-natured humor immediately collapsed into a scowl. “I don’t know,” he said tightly. “Are we talking about a statement that could make a handful of bisexual kids feel a little bit more secure in themselves by knowing that a famous actor feels comfortable with his sexuality? Or are we talking about a statement that would piss of some homophobes? _Or_ , how about-“

 

“Steve,” Bucky said quietly, laying a hand on his arm.

 

Steve took a breath through his nose, trying to relax his stance.

 

“Are you trying to become an LGBT icon?” another one asked.

 

Steve’s temper flared. “I don’t want to be an icon of _anything_ unless it’ll help people,” he snapped.

 

Bucky’s hand closed tightly around his bicep.

 

“WHO TOPS?” someone asked, and Steve got the feeling that it was one of the people from the Gossip Column.

 

Bucky smirked, leaning forward with a wink. “That’s the kind of talk we save for behind closed doors.”

 

“Aw, come on, give us a _little_ something,” the same person pressed.

 

Steve and Bucky exchanged glances.

 

Steve wanted to yell about privacy, but apparently Bucky was a huge suck-up, because the next thing he said was, “Stevie and I are both pretty selfless about our relationship. It’s not a give-take kind of thing. We know what the other wants, and we’ll do whatever it takes to give it to them. It’s not even really about sex- it’s just about being in a healthy relationship. We’re in love, and it doesn’t matter what happens at the end of the day as long as that remains the same.”

 

Steve kind of wanted to punch him but also kiss his stupid face.

 

An adventurous guy who looked pretty adolescent squirmed to the front of the crowd with his camera. “Can I get a shot of you two kissing? It’s for the good of America.”

 

Steve raised an unimpressed eyebrow before Bucky tugged on his sleeve. Steve turned to him to see Bucky’s mock-innocent expression. “ _For the good of America, Steve_.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes, lightly grabbing the front of Bucky’s suit to pull him in for a brief kiss.

 

Which felt really too good to be real.

 

When they pulled away, the kid with the camera looked like he was going to piss himself with excitement. Bucky looked a little flustered, and also like he kind of wanted to bolt for Tony’s limo. Steve felt like the earth had shifted underneath his feet. He’d just _kissed_ Bucky in _public_ because a guy with a _camera_ asked them to.

 

What the fuck?

 

Steve heard someone whistle and turned to see one of his cast-members, Timothy “Dum-Dum” Dugan, grinning at him lecherously. “Old Grandpappy Rogers got game!” he crowed.

 

“Very funny,” Steve mumbled, grabbing Bucky’s hand and dragging him towards his cast-mates.

 

“You never introduced us to your boyfriend,” Dugan teased with a little waggle of his eyebrows. Morita punched him on the arm with a warning look.

 

Bucky stuck out a hand. “I’m Bucky Barnes,” he told them, grinning charmingly.

 

Steve didn’t really care for that grin. It didn’t look as real as the smiles that Bucky had to be sort of startled into.

 

“That is one strange name, son,” Dugan observed, shaking his hand firmly.

 

Bucky laughed. “I’ve got this nickname for two very key reasons. The first is that my ma named me after a really obscure US president, and I always thought that was pretty lame. Second, have you ever been the eighth kid named James in your grade?”

 

“Yes,” Morita and Falsworth said at the same time.

 

“You literally proved my point for me,” Bucky said through another laugh.

 

Steve was frowning. “Which US president are you named after?”

 

Bucky looked at him in resignation. “James Buchanan.”

 

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve said, sounding the words out. “Bucky suits you better.”

 

At that moment, Tony finally exited the limo, and a new fervor went over the reporters as they demanded answers to various questions. Tony just gave them all a vague thumbs up as he strode over to Steve and Bucky. “I’m bored,” he announced grandly. “When’s your movie start?”

 

Steve checked his watch. “Twenty-ish minutes.”

 

Tony scowled, evidently displeased with the answer. He nudged Steve, glancing over to see the other cast-members engaged in their own conversation. Steve could see Bucky grinning, looking like he was genuinely enjoying himself. “First off,” Tony said lowly, “we are going to be talking about _that_ at some point in the future.” His eyes flicked meaningfully towards Bucky and Steve’s heart sank. “Secondly, you’re coming over to the Tower after the movie because Sam was bitching about not seeing you lately. Bring Barnes with you.”

 

“Okay,” Steve said in resignation, knowing better than to argue right now. Tony could- on a particularly hard day- be as stubborn as Steve.

 

“Hey, Rogers? Ready to head in?” Gabe Jones asked, smirking a little for a reason that was beyond Steve.

 

Steve smiled. “Sure thing.”

 

* * *

 

 

“But Steve,” Bucky was saying for the ninetieth time. “Steeeeeeeve.”

 

“What?” Steve said, feigning annoyance.

 

Bucky was almost collapsed into his side. “I have to know,” he begged.

 

“Know what?”

 

Bucky glared at him. “Did Captain America survive?”

 

Steve gave him a look of mock sincerity. “Gee, Buck, I dunno- wouldn’t that be a spoiler?”

 

“STEEEEEEEVE,” Bucky whined. “WHAT HAPPENED TO CAPTAIN AMERICA?”

 

“He crashed a plane into the arctic,” Steve said cheekily.

 

Bucky scowled. “What the hell are you good for if you can’t give me inside information?”

 

“Blow jobs!” Tony shouted, popping up behind them to sling his arms across their shoulders. Bucky yelped.

 

“Fucking hell, Tony,” Steve muttered, cheeks going hot as he stared at the ground.

 

“I know. You love me and I’m hilarious.”

 

Bucky rubbed a hand across his jaw. “Do _you_ know?” he demanded, looking at Tony.

 

Tony shook his head. “It depends on how well it does in box offices. If this one is successful? I’d bet my own heart that there’ll be a sequel with a very alive Captain America.”

 

“You’re no help,” Bucky muttered, turning back to Steve. “You _have_ to tell me.”

 

Steve grinned. “You have to be extra good to get inside secrets.”

 

“Stevie, I’ve literally been on my best behavior all night,” Bucky said, letting out an actual whine. Steve tried not to think about how much the sound jolted him.

 

Instead, he crooked a finger, and Bucky eagerly leaned towards him, an excited gleam to his eyes. “Captain America will live on in our hearts forever,” Steve whispered.

 

Bucky wrinkled his nose. “Does that mean he’s dead?”

 

“Not necessarily.”

 

“Steve!”

 

Steve laughed, letting his head tip back in the process.

 

“He needs to be protected at all costs,” Bucky groused stubbornly.

 

“Did you get a crush on your fake boyfriend’s fictional character?” Tony asked incredulously.

 

Bucky glared at him. “...No.”

 

“You did,” Tony said gleefully.

 

“No! He just looked really fucking nice in that uniform- especially the one with that leather jacket. Mmm...” Bucky looked at Steve, wide-eyed. “Did you get to keep the outfit?”

 

Steve giggled a little. “Yeah. It’s somewhere in my closet.”

 

Bucky’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my god. You need to wear it _all the time_.”

 

“If I do that, then you have to wear your uniform from _The Winter Soldier_. It made your thighs look even more killer than normal.”

 

Bucky considered for a moment. “Deal.”

 

Steve was almost sure they were flirting. This was flirting, right?

 

Judging by the delighted leer Tony was giving him, he was probably right.

 

Right?

 

“Come on, you two crazy kids,” Tony said. “Mi casa su casa. Or whatever. We’re going to the Tower.”

 

Bucky’s eyes lit up, and how could Steve say no to that face?

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**NEW: _Howling Commandos_ premier leaves critics hungry for more**

**GOSSIP COLUMN: Steve Rogers caught kissing his hunky boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, at _Howling Commandos_ premier! It’s okay, Steve. We’d have kissed him too ;)  Click here to see exclusive photos and interviews.**

 

* * *

 

 

“DUDE!” Sam shouted, throwing his arms out. “I haven’t seen you in, like, forever.”

 

Steve grimaced. He knew better than to make excuses, because if he did, Sam would just frown and say, “Dude...” in the most disappointed voice. Either that or, if he was in a good mood, Steve would get the sarcastic but slow, “Uh-huh.”

 

Instead, Steve just said, “I’m really sorry about that.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing to go crying over. Just don’t do it again,” he said sternly before embracing Steve.

 

“Thanks, man,” Steve murmured.

 

Sam gave him a little squeeze before stepping away.

 

Tony was almost jumping in place as he grabbed Bucky by the shoulders and steered him into the common room. “Okay, everyone, this is Bucky,” he said grandly, and Steve’s friends gave little waves.

 

Tony jumped over to Sam. “This is Sam. AKA Literal Saint™. You’ll probably fall halfway in love with him before the night’s over.” Sam gave a little scoff but didn’t bother correcting him.

 

Tony then moved to Natasha. “This is Natasha. She is scary and mean and only talks to Steve and Steve’s agent and she not-so-secretly hates me. And she definitely knows how to kill a man with her pinkie.” Natasha smiled sweetly and Steve chuckled a little.

 

“This is Angie. She is a Broadway actress and also the cutest cutie.” Peggy gave Tony a warning look. “And she’s probably using that cute exterior to hide her deadly intentions that I know she has.” Angie giggled, tucking her face into Peggy’s neck.

 

“This is Peggy Fucking Carter, and she is life goals,” Tony explained solemnly. “She will kick your ass with a stapler while swing music plays in the background and then she will laugh about it later with her secretly evil wife. But seriously. I want to be Peggy Carter when I grow up.”

 

“You’re too kind,” Peggy grumbled, failing to smother a little smile.

 

“AND THIS!” Tony went on, “is Pepper. She is the love of my life and also the best person to ever person.” Pepper kissed Tony on the cheek as he sat down next to her. “Okay. That’s all of Steve’s friends.”

 

Bucky looked a little overwhelmed. “Wow,” was all he said.

 

Steve walked over to him. “They all mean well,” he said, giving the room his Disapproving Look.

 

Bucky looked at him, eyes alight with something a little foreign to Steve. “No. It’s... nice,” he whispered.

 

Steve looked away, probably blushing a little. Natasha locked eyes with him and gave him a smug look, making a show of winking at him.

 

“Do you two need some sort of cue?” Sam asked, coming behind Steve and Bucky to clap them on the backs. “Socialize.”

 

Steve gave Sam a dirty look before pointedly flopping down onto the couch between Angie and Natasha. Bucky followed Sam to the other side of the room to sit.

 

“So, how was the premier?” Peggy asked.

 

“It was fine. I didn’t punch anyone.”

 

“Yoooo, new record!” Angie whooped, holding out a hand for a high five.

 

“It was mostly thanks to Bucky,” Steve admitted as he slapped Angie’s hand.

 

Natasha nudged him with her toe. Steve ignored her as Bucky ducked his head. “Somebody needs to stop your stupid ass from going on a righteous rampage.”

 

“AMEN TO THAT!” Tony exclaimed loudly, raising a glass of some sort of alcohol that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

 

“No drinking tonight,” Pepper said smoothly. “You have a meeting tomorrow morning.”

 

Tony pouted as she took the drink from him and took a sip.

 

“I have to agree with Pepper,” Sam said mildly. “A drunk-Tony night is not something we need right now.”

 

“You guys are rude,” Tony muttered, sinking down into the couch. “Ruuuuude.”

 

Natasha kicked Steve’s leg a little harder than she had before. Steve gave her a look. Natasha equally matched the look and said, “Come with me to get some snacks.”

 

Steve sighed in defeat as he pushed himself to his feet and followed Natasha into the kitchen.

 

“So,” Natasha began, the word drawn-out.

 

“So,” Steve shot back.

 

“The Internet tells me you’ve kissed Barnes tonight.”

 

“The Internet can go fuck itself.” Steve didn’t meet her eyes.

 

Natasha kicked lightly at his shin again. “Are you okay?”

 

Steve pressed a hand into his eyes. “I need to unwind,” he whispered.

 

Natasha reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a flask. “Russian vodka,” she told him as she handed it to him.

 

“Why did you have this on you?” Steve asked suspiciously.

 

Natasha just blinked, flicking her hair casually. “You know what they say about gift horses, Steve.”

 

Steve sighed. “I don’t think I can get super drunk tonight. I don’t trust myself to keep my brain-to-mouth filter.”

 

“That’s kinda the point.”

 

Steve passed the flask back to Natasha, who took a very nonchalant sip.

 

“I think he’s into you,” she said, turning back to the pantry to finish raiding for snacks.

 

“You’ve known him for less than five minutes.”

 

“So?”

 

Steve leaned back onto the counter. “So, you can’t know that.”

 

“I can,” Natasha said firmly.

 

Steve shook his head. “He’s not into me.”

 

Natasha stared at him for a long moment, not saying anything. Then, she threw a party-sized bag of Doritos at his chest. “Doritos for Dorito.”

 

Steve chuckled a little, grabbing any other snack bag that Natasha would let him carry before heading back to the others.

 

The night dissolved into good conversation. Bucky seemed to be getting along with Sam like a house on fire. He was still admittedly a little star-struck by Tony, but he was doing great with Pepper. As Steve had expected, he and Peggy had sort of sized each other up before deciding they liked each other. He and Angie had gotten along too. Unsurprisingly, it was Natasha who talked to him the least. Natasha handled socializing at her best through polar opposites: with hella large groups or hella small groups. When she was forced into that middle ground, she tended to silently latch onto the person she was closest to (Steve).

 

“Want to hear about how Angie and I met?” Peggy asked at one point, eyes gleaming.

 

Everyone (even Angie) groaned as Bucky said, “ _Yes_ ,” immediately.

 

Peggy grinned, straightening a little. “I don’t know if he told you, but Steve and I dated pretty seriously during college.”

 

Bucky’s eyes flickered over to Steve in surprise.

 

“I guess he didn’t tell you then. Well, Steve and I used to date before I took a job in England for several years. Steve and I hadn’t communicated much, but when I moved back to New York, he was still the first person I called. And of course, you know Steve. He offered to help me find a place immediately. He’s always such a gentleman.” Peggy looked at Steve fondly.

 

Steve looked at his thighs, a little bit embarrassed.

 

“And then the most wonderful thing happened.”

 

“What?” Bucky asked.

 

Peggy laced her fingers with Angie’s. “Steve decided to take me to a Broadway show, but we went to a restaurant first where Angie happened to be serving. A man at the bar kept being quite inappropriate, and Steve and I both were about to blow a gasket. I decided to step in first, though.”

 

“What did you do?”

 

“I stabbed him with a fork,” Peggy said simply, her red lips curving into a wicked grin. “Angie asked me if I wanted to have dinner. The rest is history.”

 

Steve furrowed his brow. “You’re forgetting the part where we got kicked out of the restaurant and how you were arrested for like a night.”

 

“It was very romantic,” Angie supplied.

 

Peggy wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t want to bore Bucky with the technicalities.”

 

“Because getting arrested is a technicality,” Sam said sarcastically.

 

“It totally is,” Tony said.

 

“It totally isn’t,” Pepper said.

 

“Angie came to see me as soon as I was released. I was a little confused as to why. And I tried asking her what in heavens she was doing there, but she just asked me out to dinner,” Peggy concluded.

 

“She’s very attractive when she’s stabbing fuckboys with forks,” Angie explained.

 

Peggy smirked, leaning over to peck Angie on the lips. “Love you too, darling,” she whispered.

 

Tony made an exaggerated gagging noise. “Gross.”

 

“Do you have to do this every time?” Pepper asked in exasperation.

 

Tony scowled. “Yeah. Peggy can’t do inappropriate things. She’s Peggy. Also, you know how I feel about PDA.”

 

Sam scoffed. “You mean only you’re allowed to harass people with your affection and nobody else is.”

 

Tony pointed at him. “Precisely.”

 

Next to him, Natasha huffed a little laugh and curled into Steve’s side. He nudged her. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

 

Natasha glanced up at him. “It’s nice to watch it,” was all she said, but she was smiling, so Steve felt himself relax a little.

 

A few hours later, Steve stood with a languid stretch. “I think we better get going,” he said apologetically. “Tonight has been awesome. Sorry I’ve been shitty with contact lately. Most of the movie hectic-ness is over, so I’ll try to be more on top of it.”

 

“Damn right,” Tony and Sam muttered at the same time, resulting in them glaring good-naturedly at each other.

 

Bucky outstretched a hand, groaning. “You’re going to have to carry me,” he complained.

 

Steve shook his head fondly, pulling Bucky to his feet and trying not to be too delighted when he sagged into Steve’s chest for a minute.

 

(He could feel Natasha’s judgment radiating into his back.)

 

“G’night guys!” Steve called as Bucky gave a slightly drowsy wave.

 

Natasha tried to trip him as he left. Steve took it as the affectionate good-bye that it was.

 

They sat in a cab, and Bucky was kind of suspiciously quiet. He kept jiggling his leg and glancing over at Steve, who pretended not to notice. Finally, he whispered, “So, you and Peggy?”

 

Steve held back a wince, scratching at the back of his head. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “It was a long time ago.”

 

“How long were you together?”

 

Steve shrugged. “Three and a half years.”

 

“Jesus,” Bucky blurted out, eyes widening. “I think the longest relationship I’ve had lasted three and a half weeks.”

 

Steve chuckled softly. “It was a long time ago. College days. All that jazz.”

 

Bucky sensed his slightly sobered mood. “What happened?” he asked softly, nudging Steve’s knee with his own.

 

Steve let out a long breath. “Straight out of college, Peggy got this really great job offer in London. And we sort of knew that her career was the most important thing to her at the time, and we knew that long-distance wasn’t something we particularly wanted to test out. So, we broke up. When she came back to New York, she met Angie, and we’ve just fallen into a different dynamic. We’re really close friends.”

 

“Do you miss the way things were?”

 

Steve thought about that for a long minute. “You have to understand,” he began, “Peggy and I were soul mates. We belonged to each other in the most visceral way, and I undoubtedly would’ve married her if things turned out differently, but...” he trailed off, weighing how much of this story he wanted to tell. Very carefully, he whispered, “We both have changed so drastically. We used to be perfect for each other, but now she’s perfect for Angie. And I’m... I’m in a better place than I was before.”

 

If Bucky sensed that Steve was holding back information, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he let his knuckles rap against Steve’s thigh briefly. “That’s some shit.”

 

Steve snorted. “Yeah. That’s some serious shit.”

 

“And you and Natasha?” Bucky asked carefully.

 

“My best friend.”

 

Bucky nodded slowly. “I liked your friends.”

 

“Yeah. I could tell you and Sam really hit it off.”

 

Bucky grinned. “Sam is awesome. He makes bird puns. You know who the only other person in my life who makes bird puns is? My best friend.”

 

“Who is this fabled ‘best friend’?” Steve teased lightly as the tension eased from his shoulders.

 

“Clint. Clint Barton. Dumbest bastard I’ve ever met,” he announced, smiling fondly.

 

“He and Sam should meet.”

 

Bucky’s eyes widened as he shook his head rapidly. “We would be quickly overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of bird puns combined. It would be a fucking nightmare.”

 

Steve laughed, and everything started to feel a little bit better again.

 

They got back to the apartment, and it felt natural when they kicked off their shoes and both climbed into Steve’s bed. They settled on opposite sides, but the warmth was ever-present.

 

* * *

 

 

**TRENDING: #CapLives #HowlingCommandos #THAT_ENDING_THO**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Steve was having one of the nicest mornings of his life.

 

Bucky had left the apartment early for a callback that he was really excited about, and Steve had remained in sweats.

 

Earlier, Angie had sent him a link to a Tumblr post that was already analyzing some grainy gif sets from the movie.

 

He’d blame it on her a thousand times over if anyone found out that he was deep into the _Howling Commandos_ tag, almost obsessively reading meta and fan theories.

 

Every time he started to feel a little guilty or silly about it, he’d switch over to a tab composed of professional critics’ opinions on the film. That’d last about five minutes before he got sad and switched back to what the fans had to say on their blogs.

 

He was reading a particularly mind-boggling theory about Captain America’s serum and ice and survival when the door burst open and Bucky sang, “Guess who got the paaaart???”

 

He jumped into the family room, spreading his arms dramatically. “It’s me! I got the part!” he announced, almost squealing.

 

Steve broke into a grin, trying not to shut his laptop suspiciously quickly. “Bucky, that’s great! I’m so proud of you!”

 

Bucky flopped onto the couch next to Steve, legs landing on his lap. “I really like the part.”

 

“Describe it to me,” Steve said, settling back into the couch, giddy to watch Bucky talk about something he was clearly passionate about.

 

Bucky’s eyes lit up as he looked at Steve. “Right. Okay. So. The movie is about these cops, and it’s set in the 1940s- pre-war and sort of during the end of the Depression. And the one cop is a girl and she’s totally badass but also a total softie and it’s all very feminist. And then the guy cop is _amazing._ ”

 

Steve smiled (probably too affectionately) at Bucky.

 

“What happens is this really hot florist is the only lead for a murder, and the cops have to protect him from the bad guys but also try to get information out of him. And my character- the guy cop- TOTALLY FALLS IN LOVE WITH THE FLORIST GUY,” Bucky screeched, flailing his arms out. “AND IT’S SUPER CUTE AND THERE’S LOTS OF CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND I LOVE IT.”

 

Steve bit his lip to stifle a little laugh. “Let me guess. Your character is super angsty and canonically gay?”

 

Bucky looked at Steve in delight. “Yes. He is. I want to marry him.”

 

“Buck, you can’t marry your own character.”

 

“I will _marry_ him,” he said stubbornly.

 

Steve smiled, looking down at his hands. “I’m so happy you got the role.”

 

Bucky sighed happily. “Me too. What’ve you been doing while I was out?”

 

Steve ignored the slight blush spreading across his own cheeks. “I was praying that my husband would return from war,” he said grimly.

 

Bucky gave a little guffaw. “Nice one. I bet you found that joke online.”

 

Steve ducked his head in embarrassment.

 

“But seriously. Did you just sit around?”

 

Steve picked at the hem of his shirt. “I was reading some shit on the Internet,” he said cautiously.

 

Bucky’s mouth pulled into a smirk. “You were browsing Tumblr again.”

 

Steve scoffed. “Again?”

 

“I caught you looking at it the other day,” Bucky confessed sheepishly.

 

“Angie sends me a bunch of shit that she thinks’ll make me blush.”

 

Bucky giggled. “I knew I liked her.”

 

Shaking his head, Steve groaned, “You should read the fanfiction she sent me earlier.”

 

A sly glint flashed through Bucky’s eyes. “Was it about you and me?”

 

Steve buried his face in his hands, and that was answer enough for Bucky to burst into laughter. “Was it good?” he asked enthusiastically.

 

Pausing, Steve said, “Well, yeah. It was... graphic, but it was actually really well-written.”

 

Bucky clapped his hands together gleefully. “Send it to me right now.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes and didn’t bother trying to deflect Bucky as he scrolled back through Angie’s texts and sent Bucky the link.

 

Bucky held up his phone as it vibrated. “Bedtime story,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

 

“Stoooop,” Steve moaned.

 

Bucky cackled.

 

“It was pretty clever. It actually had us transported into a universe where Captain America and the Winter Soldier exist together. It was super sad,” Steve mused thoughtfully.

 

“No spoilers,” Bucky chastised, swatting him on the foot.

 

Bucky fiddled with his phone and Steve tried not to stare at him but kind of gave up. He hoped Bucky just assumed that Steve was watching him because he was bored, not because he was desperately fascinated with his beautiful face.

 

Several hours later, Bucky stumbled into the bedroom with slightly red eyes. Steve tried not to look too alarmed as Bucky held up his phone and glowered at him accusingly. “Why the fuck did you make me read this?” he asked, voice all croaky.

 

It took Steve a moment to figure out that Bucky was referring to the sad fanfiction, and then he had to bite back a smile. “You want a hug?” he teased, still half serious.

 

Bucky nodded miserably and crawled into bed, collapsing into Steve’s open arms. “Why did it have to end like that?” Bucky muttered sullenly. “Isn’t fanfiction meant to be happy? It’s supposed to just be porn, right?”

 

Steve chuckled a little, stroking his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “It’s not just porn. It’s stories. This one happened to be fucking devastating.”

 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight forever,” Bucky grumbled, burrowing further into Steve’s space.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Steve said quietly, and found that his words were genuine.

 

And that terrified him more than anything else.

 

* * *

 

 

“Your contract for the Captain America franchise has just expanded to two more movies,” Fury informed Steve as he clicked through his email.

 

“So the Captain does live,” Steve muttered dryly.

 

Fury gave him a look. “I am not in the mood to be sassed today, Rogers.”

 

Steve smirked. “Sounds like you’re in the wrong business, Fury.”

 

Fury leveled him with an unimpressed glare. “How are things going with Barnes?” he asked instead of reprimanding him.

 

Steve gave as much of a nonchalant shrug as he could. “Pretty well. I don’t think anybody doubts the integrity of the relationship.”

 

Fury watched him for a moment. “I know. You’re both very talented actors, and I was never worried about your public appearances. I’m asking about this on a personal level, though.”

 

Steve blinked, a little bit shocked.

 

“Natasha told me that you may have begun to develop feelings for him,” Fury said carefully, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m not necessarily surprised, considering the intimacy required in your situation. However, I’d like to know if it is emotionally detrimental.”

 

Steve had to take a moment to sort through Fury’s vocabulary before awkwardly replying. “I’m fine.”

 

“You said that while you were suffering form severe depression. You also said that after you were thrown out a second story window.”

 

Steve looked away. “I am. I’m fine.”

 

Fury sighed. “Look, I know I forced you into this, but it’s because I actually give a shit about what happens to you. Plus, my daughter would never forgive me if I let the media permanently soil your name, but that’s beside the point.” Steve frowned at that. “What I’m trying to say is if you ever need out of this thing, I’ll try to figure something out.”

 

Steve stared at him for a long moment, floored. “Um. Thank you.”

 

Fury rolled his one good eye. “I’m not a sentimental man. Don’t get all choked up on me.”

 

Steve nodded shakily. “I should go. I think they’re mailing the second Captain America script to me today.”

 

“Time to work for a living,” Fury said, and Steve may have imagined the slight upward quirk of his lips.

 

Steve huffed. “Exactly. Thank you, Nick.”

 

“Don’t mention it, Steve.”

 

Steve didn’t.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**TRENDING: _Howling Commandos_ sequel confirmed- cast and title not yet revealed**

 

* * *

 

 

“So he survived,” Bucky declared grumpily as Steve examined the script delicately.

 

Steve smirked at his roommate. “Maybe that’s just what I want you to think.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Bet you tell all your fake boyfriends that,” he grumbled under his breath.

 

Steve pretended he didn’t hear.

 

He missed the almost wistful look that Bucky gave him as he looked away.

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you always look like such a dork when you go out in public?” Bucky asked curiously as they nestled into a corner table at Steve’s favorite hipster coffee shop.

 

(Steve had such a weakness for hipster coffee shops.)

 

Steve glanced down. “I don’t follow,” he said, a little confused.

 

Bucky reached across the table and took off his sunglasses. He bumped Steve’s nose with his fingers playfully as he said, “There. Now I get to see those baby blues of yours.”

 

“I’m not a dork,” Steve muttered, still stuck on that part of Bucky’s statement.

 

Bucky gave him a look. “You’re the dorkiest dork to ever dork, Stevie. You’re acting like you’re undercover, and you’re doing it very badly.”

 

Steve scowled. “Well, nobody’s confronted me yet, have they?”

 

As if on a particularly comedic cue, a teenage girl inched her way over to them, looking both elated and nervous out of her mind. “Hi. Are you guys Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes?”

 

Bucky giggled into his hand as Steve turned to her. “Yeah. That’s us.”

 

She seemed to deflate. “You have no idea how awkward it’d be if I was wrong.”

 

“It’s still a little awkward,” Bucky giggled, not sounding serious enough for the girl’s face to fall even remotely.

 

“This is so surreal. Um. Could I take a selfie with you guys? You’re like real life OTP goals. I’m sorry. I’m rambling. Picture?”

 

Steve smiled a little. “What’s your name?”

 

“Kamala,” she squeaked.

 

“Of course you can take a selfie with us, Kamala.”

 

She jumped up and down for a moment, then fumbled for her phone. Bucky gave Steve a look that clearly conveyed, _That’s adorable_.

 

Kamala took her selfie, and Steve thought it was a pretty damn good selfie, before thanking them profusely and shuffling towards her own table in the coffee shop.

 

“That was sweet,” Bucky observed.

 

Steve frowned at his coffee. “I don’t know how they still like me. Maybe they don’t. Maybe it’s just because I’m famous and nicely proportioned.”

 

Bucky had a slight furrow in his brow. “Um. Bullshit, Rogers. You’re like sunshine personified. Plus sarcasm and sweetness.”

 

Steve was probably blushing. Fuck that. He ignored it. “I’m really not.”

 

“Stop that,” Bucky whispered fiercely. “You’re just _so much_.”

 

“I’m a pain in your ass,” Steve said tiredly, insecurities feeling like they were attacking him out of nowhere. “You have to deal with so much shit from me.”

 

Bucky kicked his shin lightly under the table. “Hey. I fucking love dealing with your shit.”

 

Steve’s hands closed more tightly around his coffee cup. He didn’t say anything.

 

“Steve. Look at me.”

 

Steve looked up.

 

Bucky was staring at him with the terribly open, almost astonished look, as if he’d just discovered the fundamental properties of the universe. “Don’t think for one second that you’re a waste of space, okay?”

 

Steve swallowed heavily. He had no idea how Bucky had managed to read him so effortlessly. “I just...”

 

“I know,” Bucky said gently. “We’ll work at it.”

 

Instead of responding, Steve kicked Bucky back under the table. Bucky’s smile was like seeing the sun.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**GOSSIP COLUMN: Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes spotted on a date at a cute café! Click here to view best date location tips.**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Steve,” Bucky whispered.

 

Steve groaned softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

“ _Stevie_.”

 

“Buck, what the fuck?” Steve croaked, cracking an eye slightly open. Bucky was pretty much sitting on his chest in the dark of their room, staring down at Steve with wide, innocent eyes.

 

“I can’t sleep.”

 

“You sleep like a damn rock,” Steve groused.

 

“I can’t sleep,” he repeated.

 

“Why the fuck not?”

 

Bucky paused. “Nightmares,” he admitted. “Can’t stop thinking.”

 

Steve sighed, resigned as he opened both eyes fully, bleary for a moment as he adjusted to the darkness. “What do you wanna do, then?”

 

Bucky stared at him. “I want food.”

 

“Make your own damn food.”

 

“I want your food. I’m shit at cooking anyways.”

 

“So am I.”

 

“You heat Mac & Cheese better.”

 

Despite how completely unreasonable that sounded, Steve actually knew it was undoubtedly true. He pushed Bucky off his chest and struggled into a sitting position. “Help me up,” he ordered, still pretty grumpy about the whole situation.

 

As Bucky scrambled to help Steve to his feet, he glanced at the clock. 2:46- _Jesus Christ_.

 

Bucky, for once, seemed wide-awake while he dragged a staggering Steve into the kitchen and shoved a bowl of Mac & Cheese into his hands.

 

Steve blindly prepared the meal for Bucky, sticking it in the microwave.

 

Bucky looked at Steve and snickered. “You have a little something on your face.”

 

Steve swatted at his own skin irritably.

 

“Oh, god, no. You completely missed.” He stepped into Steve’s space and reached up to swipe his thumb across the corner of Steve’s mouth. “There. Did you eat any of my Mac & Cheese?”

 

Steve shrugged. “I can’t be held responsible for what I do at this hour,” he mumbled, trying to hide how much his heart was racing at the contact and the closeness.

 

Bucky hummed, eyes roving over Steve’s face thoughtfully. “Guess I can’t argue with that.”

 

Steve dropped his forehead onto Bucky’s shoulder, feeling like his neck couldn’t support the weight anymore. “What do you have nightmares about?” he asked.

 

Bucky was silent for a long moment. “I was a prisoner of war,” he said slowly. “Shit happened. I’m fucked up for it.”

 

Steve took a deep breath. “How bad did they hurt you?”

 

“Real bad.” Bucky hesitated before grabbing Steve’s head and lifting it off his shoulder. He watched Steve’s face as he tugged up the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I’ve never shown you this but...”

 

Steve stared at the horrific scarring that danced across Bucky’s left arm, looking like it ran up even further than what he had exposed. “Bucky,” Steve whispered brokenly.

 

Bucky was looking down at it too. “Fucked up.”

 

Before he could stop himself, Steve reached out and cradled Bucky’s wrist in one hand, tracing along the puckered scar tissue with his other fingers. “Does it hurt?” Steve asked when Bucky shivered.

 

“No. I can barely feel anything from my fingers to my shoulder.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“They nearly amputated it. I almost died.”

 

“ _Fuck_.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Steve continued mapping out the lines and splotches with feather-light touches of his fingertips, oblivious to the intense reaction it was getting from Bucky. “Did they torture you?”

 

“So I’ve been told.”

 

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Bucky bit his lip. “I... don’t remember a lot of what happened. Doctors say it’s a combination of brain trauma and selective memory to preserve my sanity or whatever. I guess that’s why I’m not as fucked up as I should be.”

 

Steve’s face crumpled. “Fuck.”

 

The microwaved beeped. They both jumped, Steve abruptly releasing his hold on Bucky’s arm and Bucky yanking his sleeve back down self-consciously.

 

“Um. Mac & Cheese.”

 

Bucky took the bowl, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “Thanks. You can go back to sleep.”

 

Not really knowing what else to do, Steve shuffled back into his bedroom and climbed into bed. He ended up staring blankly at the ceiling for what felt like ages.

 

He heard his bedroom door creak a little. Bucky was standing in the doorway. “Steve? You awake?” he whispered, and his voice sounded kinda wrecked.

 

“Yeah, Buck. I’m here.”

 

Bucky let out a sigh of relief and climbed back onto the bed. Instead of rolling towards his side, though, he curled onto Steve’s chest, eyes squeezed shut tightly. “Don’t go,” he whimpered when Steve sort of froze.

 

Steve forced himself to relax back into the sheets, wrapping his arms around Bucky and murmuring meaningless but reassuring things into his hair. Eventually, Bucky’s tense muscles released some of their stiffness. His body got progressively heavier and heavier until Steve was certain he was asleep. By that time, it was technically morning, but Steve knew Bucky would need the rest.

 

It just meant he was trapped there with him, which wasn’t a big deal.

 

Steve allowed himself to really think about what Bucky had told and shown him a few hours ago. It couldn’t be helped if the terrible onslaught of emotion compelled him to press a lingering kiss to the top of Bucky’s head. It couldn’t be helped if Steve pulled Bucky just a tad closer.

 

Steve knew he was completely fucked. His feelings for Bucky were so transparent at this moment that Steve felt gutted and exposed. It was a wonder that Bucky hadn’t noticed yet, but then again, maybe he had. Maybe he was just being nice. He _was_ staying at Steve’s apartment only because he was being forced to.

 

Bucky already knew how much of a mess Steve was, although not to the most explicit extent. Bucky knew about the fights. Bucky had _prevented_ his fair share of Steve-Fights. Bucky knew about the low self-esteem and the constant insecurities. Bucky knew about Steve’s ongoing cold war with the media. Bucky knew almost everything.

 

And it felt like Steve was only beginning to scratch the surface of Bucky’s issues.

 

Nightmares weren’t exactly a rare occurrence, and Bucky couldn’t hide them since they shared the bed every night. But he never talked about them afterwards. Bucky had his moods and his bad days, but Steve always figured that it was a natural part of recovering from war.

 

And now he’d found out so much more than he’d previously known.

 

It felt like he’d just opened a door to the fifth dimension, only to have it slammed shut immediately. Steve felt like he was hovering outside the door, straining to peek back inside or commit the sight he’d already glimpsed to memory. There was always the promise that the door could open again, but there was also the promise that it could never reopen.

 

Steve was, in a word, terrified that he trusted Bucky more than Bucky trusted him.

 

It was a horrible, raw sort of feeling that left Steve feeling insignificant and almost humiliated. He tried to push the thought to the back of his mind. He felt so fucking tired after the lack of sleep he’d had.

 

So Steve closed his eyes, resolutely thought of nothing of importance, and drifted off to a fitful sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“There’s literally a scene where the florist dude walks home to ‘I Will Survive’ in the background.”

 

Steve chuckled. “Amazing. Who plays him again?”

 

Bucky sighed dreamily. “Thor Odinson.”

 

“No shit? Tony has such a crush on him. I also got drunk with him once.”

 

“Isn’t he the best?”

 

“He sure is.”

 

Bucky frowned. “Too bad he’s married. To a woman.”

 

“Hey. I’ve met Jane Foster. She’s almost too good for him.”

 

Bucky shrugged. “Wasn’t saying she wasn’t. Was just saying that I’d totally hit that.”

 

Steve laughed to hide the spike of hot jealousy that went through him. “Do you get to make out with him in the movie?”

 

Bucky gave Steve a coy look. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

 

Steve gave him a look.

 

“Okay. Yes, I do. And I’m really pumped up about it- who are you texting?”

 

Steve grinned. “I’m just telling Tony that you’re going to make out with his celebrity crush. He’s going to be so jealous.”

 

Bucky squawked and lunged over Steve’s lap for the phone. “Don’t you dare! I don’t want him breaking into our home and making everything a robot!”

 

Steve cackled madly, keeping the phone just out of Bucky’s reach. The struggle that ensued was mostly play wrestling. Bucky shoved Steve off the couch, reaching madly for the phone, but Steve pushed it away so that it slid several feet away. Bucky made a sound of outrage, methodically pinning Steve’s arms above his head as Steve tried to stop laughing.

 

They heard the phone buzz loudly against the hardwood floor and both froze.

 

The phone buzzed again an instant later.

 

And then kept buzzing.

 

Bucky’s face set into grim horror. “You’ve killed us all.”

 

Steve couldn’t help the torrent of giggles that escaped him as Bucky essentially collapsed on top of him.

 

“Mmfmmgmh,” Bucky said into his shirt.

 

“What was that?” Steve asked in bemusement.

 

Bucky turned his head. “I don’t wanna dieeee.”

 

Steve smiled softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

 

Bucky scoffed. “Yeah. My big strong fake boyfriend who can’t even win a wrestling contest against a disfigured veteran.”

 

“I can’t win a wrestling contest against a trained soldier motivated by fear of Tony’s wrath,” Steve corrected.

 

Bucky rolled his eyes, shifting so that he was just lying against Steve’s side. “Details.”

 

Steve closed his eyes. “When’s your last day on set?”

 

Bucky thought for a moment. “In a week. God, it feels like I _just_ got the part and now it’s almost over.”

 

“It always feels like that,” Steve said.

 

The production on Bucky’s movie for the past couple of months had left Bucky energized and in a generally good mood. Which, by osmosis (science), led to Steve’s generally good mood. And there had even been fewer incidents with Steve getting into scandalous fights.

 

All thanks to Bucky Barnes.

 

Steve thought back to the lunch he had yesterday with Natasha and Sam. “You two are sleeping in the same bed,” Natasha had said, almost triumphantly.

 

Steve had had absolutely no idea how Natasha had figured that out, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he had blushed and mumbled, “It’s just some very platonic cuddling.”

 

Sam had rolled his eyes and started chanting, “Make a move. Make a MOVE. Make A MOVE. MAKE A MOVE,” and Natasha had joined in until Steve had locked himself in the bathroom so that he didn’t physically die of trauma and humiliation.

 

Steve thought about the encounter as Bucky basically nuzzled against Steve’s chest. They were in such a strange territory. Every time they exited the apartment, they’d hold hands or do some other super couple-y shit. And when they got back home, a lot of it didn’t fall away. There was always the same sort of banter between them, and Bucky was a guy who thrived off of little touches, so the touching really didn’t stop- especially ever since they’d started sharing a bed.

 

It was a weird territory where Steve had absolutely no footing. Not a lot about the intimacy between them suggest something platonic, but it wasn’t exactly sexual either.

 

It wasn’t even necessarily romantic.

 

Steve was kind of blindsided by how weird their dynamic was. It wasn’t anything like the deep need all tangled up in love and desire he’d felt with Peggy. Before everything else, Bucky was his friend. But that couldn’t really begin to sum things up adequately.

 

They had the sort of married-couple-domesticity thing down. They fucking cuddled most nights. They kissed and held hands in public.

 

But they also whacked each other with pillows and made fun of dumb movies. They cracked shitty jokes and insulted each other over coffee. They punched each other on the arm with a dry, “ _Pal_ ,” to show camaraderie.

 

And Steve was more confused than ever.

 

They were in a sort of no-man’s-land between dating and friendship, and it was so fucking weird, but it _didn’t feel weird_.

 

Steve thought of Bucky romantically all the time. To be honest, he thought of him sexually fairly often as well. But they just weren’t operating that way.

 

He wondered in that moment if he should be as reckless as he always was. Bucky was snuggled into his side and Steve wanted nothing more than to kiss him breathless, but it was as if something terrible had anchored in his gut.

 

He couldn’t do that to Bucky. He couldn’t be so selfish about their relationship just because he was feeling half-in-love.

 

So, he let Bucky struggle to a sitting position a little while later and crawl away towards the phone. Steve only watched a little bit longingly.

 

“Tony says he’s going to kill me and then use some sort of complicated technology to wear my face into the set so that he can kiss Thor.” Bucky looked up, disturbed. “Can he do that?”

 

Steve sat up, leaning back against the couch. “He can do anything he wants. He’s famous.”

 

Bucky snorted. Steve couldn’t help but grin.

 

Because he’d take whatever he could get. Being friends with Bucky in itself was amazing. Steve could deal with the excess of feelings.

 

He just didn’t know how much longer he could hide them.

 

* * *

 

 

**NEW: Actor Bucky Barnes reveals title for his new movie: _Stained Daffodils_**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Steve was getting motherfucking deja vu.

 

“My premier is tomorrow night,” Bucky said casually as they finished brushing their teeth.

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Gee, really, I didn’t quite catch that.”

 

(It was all Bucky had been talking about for the past month.)

 

Bucky shuffled past Steve into their bedroom. “Be excited for me,” he demanded sullenly.

 

Steve sighed, following Bucky. “I am. Sorry. The Captain America filming has just been really stressful on me lately.”

 

“I know that, you dumbass. Why do you think I’ve bought takeout for the past week rather than subject you to my shitty cooking? I noticed.”

 

Steve felt a little guilty. “You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

 

Bucky grabbed Steve’s wrist and tugged him gently onto the bed. “You know this is a two-way street. I feel shitty, you help. You feel shitty, I help.”

 

Steve nodded. “I know that.”

 

Bucky flopped onto his back, releasing Steve’s wrist. “We’ll figure out a better way to deal with it after tomorrow. I’m really too excited to think of something good right now.”

 

“I’m excited for you,” Steve said, smiling.

 

“I know you are. I can’t wait.”

 

Bucky’s eyes were sparkling, and Steve ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight. It was a commonplace occurrence nowadays.

 

“Get some sleep, Buck,” he said quietly.

 

Bucky grinned. “I’ll try.”

 

* * *

 

 

**BREAKING: Bucky Barnes arrives at _Stained Daffodils_ premier with boyfriend Steve Rogers**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“This feels kind of backwards.”

 

Bucky grinned, lacing their fingers together on reflex. “And I know you _love_ it.”

 

Steve kind of did.

 

Not being the center of attention at the event was sort of an alien feeling. He hadn’t felt invisible for, like, five years. Now, everyone had eyes on Bucky in his gorgeous, slim suit, and no one had eyes on his date. Steve Rogers had been sidelined.

 

And it felt like relief.

 

(He was a little bit shocked by that. Five years ago, he would’ve given quite literally anything to not be so invisible. He never thought he’d want that invisibility back again. Maybe it was because he was only invisible to _most_ people.)

 

Camera flashes engulfed them as their limo pulled away, and Bucky stood on his tiptoes to press a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth, sending tingles shooting through his body.

 

Steve was grinning like a dope by the time the microphones were stuck in Bucky’s face.

 

Steve was also a little bit shocked by how many relevant questions they asked him. Almost everything related vaguely to the movie (nobody knew how gay it was yet, but according to Bucky, they would learn it very quickly). He only got a very limited number of disrespectful comments about his homosexual lifestyle, and Bucky usually took those statements very calmly and professionally. He did let Steve snap at a few of them, though, because why suck the fun out of everything?

 

There was a lot of handshaking.

 

“James!” Thor boomed, warmly embracing Bucky. “You are coming to the after party that my dearest Jane is hosting, aren’t you?”

 

Bucky grinned, leaning his head back to meet Thor’s eyes. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, man. Oh! And Thor, this is my boyfriend, Steve.”

 

Thor turned his attention to Steve, eyes lighting. “Ah, Steve! I remember your valiance against the battle of liquor.”

 

Steve ducked his head. “God, really?”

 

“Indeed,” Thor said, sounding amused. “James, your partner can certainly hold his alcohol.”

 

The word “partner” seemed to slot something in place in Steve’s mind.

 

That sounded kind of perfect for their current relationship.

 

(The two connotations of the term pretty much directly matched with The two worlds that Steve and Bucky existed in.)

 

Bucky laughed a little. “Really? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him drink.”

 

“I don’t do it very often,” Steve said. “I don’t really get very drunk most of the time, but I still end up having a hangover.”

 

“A pity,” Thor said sadly. “If I recall, your table-dancing combined with the karaoke was quite entertaining.”

 

“It’s not like you didn’t do anything that bad,” Steve shot back.

 

Thor grinned, looking at Bucky. “I assumed Steve was a firecracker the first time we met. My suspicions have only been confirmed by this encounter. You are the recipient of a good man’s affection, James.”

 

Bucky nodded. “I totally agree.”

 

They were interrupted when Bucky’s other co-star, Hope Van-Dyne, strode up to them. “Ready?”

 

They were.

 

* * *

 

 

**TRENDING: _Stained Daffodils_ is, like, super gay and super feminist.**

**TRENDING: IT HAD A HAPPY ENDING**

**TRENDING: Bucky Barnes making out with Thor Odinson: AKA the incoherent story of the most erotic moment of my life**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The after party was really crowded and really intense.

 

Steve lost Bucky about three minutes after arriving. He could hardly remember how it happened- only that one minute, Bucky’s hand was firmly around his bicep, and the next, Steve was cold and alone.

 

Steve tried not to feel too helpless. Jane was probably here. He knew Jane. He’d find Jane. Bucky was probably having fun without him anyway.

 

It took him about fifteen minutes, but Steve eventually did find Jane, although at that point it was kind of by accident. Steve had gotten a drink spilled on him and bolted for the nearest empty room, locking himself inside to take a moment to collect himself.

 

“Occupied,” a female voice said distractedly.

 

Steve turned around. Jane was in ducky-themed pajamas, curled up on a large bed with her laptop. She hadn’t looked up.

 

“Oh. Hi, Jane.”

 

Jane’s eyes flicked to his face briefly, then back up after a slight pause. “Oh, Steeeeve!” she said, smiling.

 

Steve smiled back. “What are you doing in here? I thought you’d thrown the party?”

 

Jane shrugged. “I bought a bag of chips, Thor did everything else, and he said I’d single-handedly pulled it off. It’s not my fault he acts like a grandma teaching her incapable grandchildren how to bake cookies.”

 

Steve snorted. “Yeah, it’s not really my scene either.”

 

Jane grinned. “Wanna keep me company while I write my report?”

 

“Sure,” Steve said, trying not to be too relieved.

 

Jane typed away as Steve sat quietly next to her. “Is your boyfriend having fun?” she asked.

 

“I assume so. I lost him pretty quickly.”

 

Jane glanced over at him, although she almost didn’t seem to see him. “I know how you feel. Thor loves his celebrations, but I’m much more of a hot chocolate and PJs type of gal. I really do better in here during the parties. I’m sure you and Bucky are something similar.”

 

“Bucky only likes parties in sporadic doses,” Steve noted, thinking back on their lengthy time spent living together. Bucky had barely gone out at all.

 

Jane hummed, focusing her full attention back on her laptop. Steve was pretty content to sit in silence though.

 

After a while, Jane finished her report (the science of it went waaaay over Steve’s head), and they chatted for a while, catching up on things. Eventually, they heard a suspicious crash. Jane had looked completely defeated as she got up and shuffled out of the room, muttering incoherently to herself.

 

Steve took his cue to leave, shutting the door softly behind him. He decided to go try and find Bucky.

 

He bumped into Thor on the way. “Have you seen Bucky?”

 

“WHAT?” Thor shouted over the music.

 

“HAVE YOU SEEN BUCKY?”

 

“YOUR PARTNER IS OVER YONDER, CONVERSING WITH HIS AGENT!” Thor answered, pointing.

 

Steve followed his gaze to the opposite side of the room, eyes combing through the crowd. Sure enough, Bucky was staring rigidly at Alexander Pierce, posture tense enough to immediately set off Steve’s warning bells.

 

He thanked Thor and pushed through the crowd to get to his partner.

 

When Steve reached them, he put a hand on the back of Bucky’s neck, but his eyes were on Pierce. He felt Bucky tense even more at the touch, but then he relaxed when he saw that it was just Steve.

 

“Hey, Buck, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

 

“I’ve been around,” Bucky said, voice a little strained.

 

Pierce looked at them coldly. “Rogers. Lovely to see you.”

 

“Likewise,” Steve lied. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” His voice sounded icily polite.

 

“You’re not,” Bucky said hurriedly.

 

Pierce smiled pleasantly. “Of course not.”

 

“Mind if I steal him from you?”

 

Pierce shook his head, eyes flashing. Steve suppressed a shudder. “Not at all, Rogers. Just keep an eye out for him.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Steve said, not thankful at all, as he half-dragged Bucky away. Bucky sagged heavily into his side. “You okay?” Steve asked urgently.

 

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Bucky rasped.

 

Steve’s grip on Bucky tightened as he headed for the nearest bathroom (he’d found them all while looking for Jane.) This one was really spacious and had a bathtub in the corner, the interior obscured by a shower curtain.

 

Bucky did end up throwing up as Steve shut the bathroom door and locked it. Feeling useless, all Steve could do was rub circles on Bucky’s back as his stomach emptied.

 

Several moments later, they were both sitting on the cold bathroom tiles in wary silence.

 

When he couldn’t take it anymore, Steve asked, “What was that all about?”

 

Bucky’s muscles visibly coiled, but he forced them to relax. He let out a stressed puff of air. “I’m going to tell you something about me, and you need to tell me right now if you’re going to see me differently for it.”

 

“That’s highly doubtful,” Steve said. “There may be some noses to break, though.”

 

Bucky cracked a weak smile. “Nobody’s nose needs to be broken.”

 

They sat quietly for another few minutes before Bucky began to speak.

 

“Being a prisoner of war obviously sucked,” he began. “But coming back home after being a prisoner of war sucked even more. I was hospitalized for a while. Had about three therapists. I was considered volatile and even a little senile. I was in a fucked up place.”

 

Steve swallowed heavily.

 

“I didn’t actually end up qualifying for any of the disabilities pensions, but I did get a little bit of money. God, not nearly enough. I tried to scrape by enough to keep my rent. I was living in this walk-in closet that had been converted into a bedroom and about ten other people lived in the apartment. I had some really intense PTSD, and I couldn’t always go to work, and the work I had barely paid. No one was surprised when I got evicted.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“I’m not even at the bad part yet. Hold your horses, Stevie,” Bucky said tiredly. “So, I was homeless. Homeless and very traumatized. I had no idea what I was going to do. This one night, I was wandering around NYC- no idea which part- when I turned down this street. This guy walked up to me and asked if I wanted a fucking hooker for the night. Told me these damn insane prices. I said no. Even if I wanted it, I didn’t have that kind of money. But, then it occurred to me.”

 

Steve braced himself for what was about to come out of Bucky’s mouth.

 

He didn’t look at him when he said, “I started whoring myself out. Made a shitton of cash. Bought a tiny apartment in Bed-Stuy. But I couldn’t land a job, so I kept doing it. I was good at getting rich guys, Steve. I was good at getting a lot of money whenever I needed it.”

 

“Did they ever-“ Steve cut in.

 

“I was never raped. I knew what I was doing the whole time,” Bucky answered, almost sternly. “But then I met Alexander Pierce.”

 

Steve sucked in a harsh breath.

 

“Pierce paid me some really fucking good cash. And then he just kept coming back, always increasing the rates. I couldn’t say no to that kind of money, even when Pierce started doing things that kind of hurt more than they should. He was... he was rough.”

 

Bucky’s hands were shaking.

 

“I realize now that he was basically my sugar daddy. He had a lot of really weird kinks too. Milk was a thing that I never thought would be used in my sex life,” Bucky mused with a hollow laugh. “After a few months of that shit, Pierce said he thought I had potential to be something more in this world. He offered me the chance to become an actor, and I said yes. I was fucking stupid back then. I knew I could be dramatic, and I’d been in a theater club for the few years I spent at college, so I thought I’d be fine. It was difficult, but it was a lot better than what I’d been dealing with before. Pierce at least stopped fucking me after he started being my boss.”

 

“But he still holds it over your head,” Steve said, trying not to sound like he was grinding his teeth together in anger.

 

Bucky shrugged helplessly. “My fault for being that stupid.”

 

“None of that shit is your fault. Fuck, I need to go out there and knock his damn teeth out.”

 

“You don’t,” Bucky argued half-heartedly.

 

“Would you stop me?”

 

Bucky’s lips quirked. “Never.”

 

They were sitting crisscross applesauce, heads bowed towards each other, knees touching. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Buck,” Steve whispered, blood still boiling.

 

Bucky pursed his lips. “It was a little while ago.”

 

“You shouldn’t have had to do that. Especially as a war hero.”

 

“I was no hero,” Bucky said in a rush. Steve was about to argue with a passion when Bucky said, “If there’s anything you want to get off your chest, now would be a pretty good time to do it.”

 

Steve’s teeth clicked shut as he weighed his options. Bucky obviously wanted to change the subject. Steve could do that for him. That was the _least_ he could do for him.

 

And there was something he’d sort of been hiding for a little while now.

 

“Okay,” he sighed, looking at the tiled floor. “After Peggy left me and college was over, everything in my life completely sucked. I’d wanted to be an artist, but as soon as I graduated, I couldn’t get a fucking job. I was working at a convenience store part time, and then my mom got sick. I took up two more jobs. I wasn’t sleeping. I didn’t have any friends. I was heartbroken, and I was horrifically depressed.”

 

Bucky reached out and grabbed Steve’s hand.

 

“I finally scraped by enough to get my mom her treatment, and after that, I felt like that was it. There was literally no purpose left for me. I quit all my jobs, and I spent a full week just thinking.”

 

Bucky gave Steve’s hand a little squeeze.

 

“I’d been so optimistic and naive when everything started out. I thought my art could change the world, and I could make people happier or some shit. I thought things were going to sort themselves out. But I was so fucking wrong. I thought about how much of a waste of space I was. I thought about how useless my existence was. Nobody cared. I didn’t even care.”

 

Steve chanced a brief look up before looking back down.

 

“When I was twenty-two, I jumped off a building.”

 

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky said brokenly.

 

“I forgot that I’d gotten stronger, though. Didn’t jump from high enough. Just broke all the bones in my body.”

 

“Fucking hell.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I still walk with a bit of a limp.”

 

When he looked up this time, Bucky’s expression looked like it had been scraped raw- gutted, even. Steve was probably a horrible person for letting the sight relieve him a bit. At least someone cared now.

 

“Wait,” Bucky said, eyes widening. “When I met you, you’d just gotten thrown out a window.”

 

Steve winced. “Yeah.”

 

“Jesus Fucking Christ.”

 

“Fury knew about what had happened. He had to know. So, I guess that whole thing hit a little too close to home. I’d been on a reckless streak my entire life. This was what pushed Fury into acting drastically.”

 

They were quiet a long time.

 

“Things got better after that?” Bucky asked hesitantly.

 

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know if I told you that Tony and I had been friends in high school. We hadn’t really been in touch since graduation, mostly on account of his very public nervous breakdown. But the minute I woke up, he and my mom were there. They both cared, it turned out. And then I met Sam because he had physical therapy during the time slot after mine. I met Nat when I started acting. And I met Angie when Peggy moved back. I constructed my own system of assurance.”

 

“Good.”

 

“I think I told you that I’m in a much better place now.”

 

“ _Good_.” Bucky grabbed Steve’s other hand, locking eyes with him almost desperately. “You know, I’d just like to say out loud that I’m not just here because I’m being forced to be here. Even after all this shit is over, I’m sticking around, okay? I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, Stevie. We don’t have to pretend to be dating to stay with each other.”

 

Steve was still reeling from Bucky’s confession, but now he had to add Bucky’s _reaction_ to Steve’s confession to his List of Things to Obsess Over Unhealthily. He could only manage a shaky nod.

 

Steve slumped forward, and Bucky pulled him into his arms.

 

They stayed pressed together for what felt like a blissful eternity.

 

Then, Steve whispered, “I’m going to go and punch Alexander Pierce right now.”

 

Bucky laughed wetly, but didn’t stop Steve as he pulled him to his feet. Bucky continued to not stop Steve as he strode up to Alexander Pierce, put a hand on his shoulder with deceptive lightness, and punched him three times: once in the eye, once in the teeth, and once on the nose.

 

When he was done, he leaned close and whispered, “That was for Bucky.”

 

When Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand and hurriedly pulled Steve out of the house before someone could call the cops, Steve was too exhilarated to stop the sudden thought that pushed itself into his mind unbidden.

 

He was in love with Bucky Barnes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**BREAKING: Steve Rogers punches his boyfriend’s agent, Alexander Pierce, three times at Thor Odinson’s party**

**GOSSIP COLUMN: What did Alexander Pierce do to be on the receiving end of Steve Rogers’ protective anger? Did Bucky and Alexander have a bit of a dispute? Click here to find out!**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I can’t believe you did that.”

 

Bucky was smiling as he cleaned Steve’s most likely sprained knuckles. Steve was kind of thankful that Bucky’s attention was on Steve’s hand. That way, he could look at Bucky with as much open adoration as he wanted to.

 

“Really?” Steve asked dryly.

 

Bucky snorted, ducking his head slightly. “You’re right. I can totally believe you did that. I’m not even remotely surprised.”

 

Steve shrugged. Bucky was standing so closely that he was having a little bit of trouble concentrating. “I would’ve done more,” he said lowly, some of his anger bleeding into his tone.

 

Bucky looked up, frowning. “You’re upset,” he whispered slowly.

 

Steve swallowed. “I know you said that no one ever- that no one ever raped you...” Bucky stilled. “But did they ever _hurt_ you?”

 

Bucky was looking a little bit helpless. “Well, _yeah_. Stevie, the guys who hired me didn’t care about proper preparation. They were impatient. Nobody likes taking the time to make sure a fucking prostitute is comfortable.”

 

Steve bit down hard on his lip, nearly drawing blood. “I’m going to tear this city apart and find every guy who hurt you.”

 

Bucky patted him fondly on the cheek, tsking. “You’re very noble about this whole thing, but don’t worry about defending my honor. It was soiled a long time ago.”

 

“It’s not about your honor. It’s about _you_ ,” Steve snapped.

 

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Why are you so angry?”

 

 _Because I hate thinking about what those men did to hurt you. Because I never want you to be hurt again. Because I would take so much better care of you._ “Why aren’t _you_ angry?”

 

Bucky put down the roll of bandages he’d been holding. “It was my choice, Steve.”

 

“It really wasn’t.”

 

Bucky scowled, taking a few steps back. “Forget it. You have no right to react like this. You know what? You’re sleeping on the damn couch tonight.” Bucky started stalking towards the bedroom.

 

“FINE!” Steve shouted at his retreating back.

 

“FINE!” Bucky returned with one last angry glance before slamming the bedroom door shut between them.

 

The apartment was icily quiet as Steve furiously finished wrapping his throbbing knuckles. He curled into a tight ball on the couch, still seething from Bucky’s lack of self-vindication.

 

Hours later, Steve stared blankly into the dark, feeling drained and sad. He had never realized how cold it felt to sleep alone.

 

He heard the bedroom door softly creak open, followed by the near-silent glide of Bucky’s feet across the floor. Bucky didn’t say anything as he nudged Steve over a little bit on the couch and laid down, half on top of Steve.

 

Steve took a shuddering breath, wrapping his arms tightly around Bucky’s body in the quiet darkness.

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered into Bucky’s hair.

 

Bucky shifted a little bit. “You’re forgiven. I’m sorry too.”

 

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

 

Bucky didn’t say anything for a long time. Then, “Hey, Stevie?”

 

“Yeah, Buck?”

 

“Don’t try to kill yourself again,” he almost whimpered.

 

Steve closed his eyes, not sure how to respond to that. Apparently, Bucky wasn’t really expecting one, because in the next fifteen minutes, his breathing had evened out into sleep.

 

Steve couldn’t be reprimanded for touching a feather-light kiss to Bucky’s forehead. He almost said the words that had been ricocheting around his skull for the past several hours ( _I love you_ ), but he knew saying it out loud would make it a very real thing, and he wasn’t ready for that.

 

Instead, Steve buried his face into Bucky’s hair and let himself drift to sleep as well.

 

* * *

 

 

When Bucky’s movie had been in theaters for about a month and a half, the list of Oscar nominees came out.

 

And Bucky was nominated for best actor in a lead role.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**BREAKING: Tony Stark announces that his annual Gala will take place in two weeks**

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re coming.”

 

Steve wrinkled his nose even though Tony couldn’t see him.

 

(Tony was literally stuck half-inside some ridiculously elaborate machine for this conversation. Off to the side, Bucky was talking excitedly to Jarvis, and he kept doing that adorable nose scrunch that Steve was so in love with.)

 

“I don’t really want to.”

 

Tony didn’t even bother sticking his head out. His voice was even more muffled than it had been a moment before when he said, “It’s not even like a grind-show. It’s a classy event. For fuck’s sake, it’s called a _Gala_. A _damn Gala_ , Steve. You’re coming.”

 

Steve scowled. “I don’t think-“

 

“You never think. Why start now?”

 

“It’s not a good idea-“

 

“When has that ever stopped you?”

 

“He has a point,” Bucky cut in from the other side of the room. Steve looked up. He hadn’t been aware that Bucky was listening. Bucky gave Steve a cheeky grin from where he was sitting on a table and swinging his legs.

 

“Listen to your fake boyfriend,” Tony said.

 

“Steve Rogers doesn’t listen to anyone,” Bucky scoffed.

 

Tony suddenly pulled his body out of the machine, raising an eyebrow through the horrendous layer of grease. “He listens to _you_.”

 

Bucky flushed. “That’s really not true. Stevie, tell Tony what happened yesterday.”

 

Steve lifted a shoulder. “Bucky told me not to start watching _sense8_ , but I did it anyways. And I finished it at three in the morning.”

 

“See?”

 

Tony looked heavenward, as if Bucky and Steve were the more exhausting ones in this crowd. “Good lord,” he muttered.

 

Steve was still thinking about _sense8_. “Why did it have to end like that? Why is there only one season?”

 

“I told you s-“

 

Steve glared at Bucky so menacingly that the words died on his lips.

 

Tony grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “God fucking dammit, get a _room_.” Steve and Bucky disregarded him. “You two are coming to the Gala, though.”

 

Bucky gave a little cheer of excitement while Steve glowered at the ground, knowing the battle was lost.

 

“Why’re you so reluctant, anyway?” Bucky asked Steve.

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Steve thinks I’m trying to kill him.”

 

Steve gave Tony a look. “Tony deliberately gets me drunk every time I come to something like that.”

 

“But you’ll be with me this time,” Bucky pointed out happily. “You’ll have fun, and I’ll protect you from the alcohol.”

 

Steve looked at Bucky grimly. Tony clapped Steve on the back. “You’re being too dramatic about this. Is the Captain America thing really stressing you out that much? Holy shit, Steve? Is that a gray hair?”

 

Steve batted Tony away, irritated. “I’m not stressed,” he mumbled.

 

(Steve was so stressed.)

 

Bucky watched carefully as Tony started teasing him more good-naturedly. When they finally bid farewell and started walking back home, Bucky said quietly, “What about Captain America is so difficult for you?”

 

Steve was suddenly very uncomfortable. “I don’t know. It’s a lot of responsibility.”

 

“You don’t have to be him if you don’t want to,” Bucky said seriously.

 

Steve offered a hollow smile. “Thanks, Buck. But it’s something I feel like I need to do. It’s almost over anyway.”

 

Bucky nodded, and nothing else was said about the matter.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Steve had a terrible feeling of anxiety in the pit of his stomach as they stepped into the elevator that would take them to Tony’s Gala.

 

Bucky leaned over toward him and grasped the back of his neck tightly. “Hey. If you start feeling like you’re gonna freak out, just tell me. I’ll make sure to get you out of there.”

 

Steve sagged in relief. “Thanks.”

 

The party _was_ really classy. Most of the women wore stunning gowns and most of the men wore tuxedos or really, really nice suits. Steve was glad that he and Bucky had gone with the tuxedos. If they’d asked Tony about the standard of dress, he’d probably say khakis would be fine, and Steve would have _died_ of mortification.

 

Steve felt so out of his depth in that moment.

 

There was an open bar (a tradition for Stark parties of any kind), a ballroom-esque dance floor, a small lounge tucked in the corner, and a section of tables where guests could sit down for dinner whenever they felt the urge to eat.

 

“Whoa,” Bucky said. Steve could only nod. His throat was too dry to do anything else.

 

Steve reached his hand out blindly. Bucky, understanding what he meant, grabbed it and laced their fingers together. Steve hadn’t realized he’d been shaking a little bit until Bucky gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

 

“You have any idea where any of our friends are?” Bucky asked, neck craned as he continued to gape at the room.

 

Steve shook his head. “They could be anywhere,” he said miserably.

 

“Okay. Where do you want to go, then?”

 

Steve frowned. “Buck, you don’t have to follow me around all night. I know I’m no fun at parties, and I would never want to hold you back. I can get by on my own.”

 

Bucky smiled softly at him. “Yeah, but you don’t have to, you dickhead. I have more fun with you than strangers anyway. Most of the time.”

 

Despite himself, Steve felt his shoulders relax. “Can we go sit in the lounge for a little bit? I need to get acclimated to the... atmosphere of this thing.”

 

“Sure thing, pal,” Bucky agreed, leading them over to the area of modern-looking couches.

 

Steve sat heavily, taking some measured breaths as he tried to get his head on straight. Bucky sat next to him, hand placed almost possessively on the small of his back as Steve leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees.

 

Steve knew this had been a horrible idea.

 

When Steve finally got his heart rate back under control, he looked up to see Sam glaring worriedly at him. “Code blue?” he asked suspiciously.

 

Steve blushed. God, he and Sam were so lame and fucked up that they’d come up with code words for their various issues. Steve shook his head. “I’m fine.”

 

Sam nodded, turning to Bucky. “Hey, man.”

 

Bucky smiled. “Hey.”

 

“You keeping an eye on him?” he asked, jerking his head in Steve’s direction.

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “As much as I can manage. He’s a little bit difficult to handle.”

 

Steve tried to swallow the swell of hurt at the words. It was just some teasing. And even if it wasn’t, it’s not like it wasn’t true. Bucky had every right to feel the weighty burden of Steve’s crap.

 

Sam chuckled. “Eh, he’s not too bad.”

 

“Never said he was bad,” Bucky said, shooting Steve a little grin.

 

“Damn right,” Sam agreed. “Would you mind grabbing me and Steve a beer real quick?”

 

Bucky heaved himself to his feet. “Anything for a couple of fellas such as yourselves,” Bucky said, Brooklyn drawl coming out in his voice. Steve ignored the little shiver that wanted to crawl up his spine.

 

As Bucky sauntered away (his ass looked fantastic in this outfit), Sam lowered himself next to Steve. “Everything alright?”

 

Steve shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “I don’t really want to be here. This entire place is so out of my league. I just- I don’t belong here at all.”

 

“And you think I feel like I do?” Sam asked incredulously.

 

Steve scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “It doesn’t get to you the same way, though.”

 

“You’re right,” Sam conceded. “But, Steve, you have to understand that you are a pretty prominent figure in the public right now. You’re one of the first openly bisexual actors, you play the literal symbol of American justice, and you constantly fight for what you think is right. You’re very important right now. It doesn’t take a genius to see that.”

 

Steve scowled. “I hate it.”

 

Sam patted him on the back. “I know it sucks, dude. But it’s just one night. And you’re an actor. Just think of the party as a role, okay?”

 

Steve puffed out a breath. “Yeah, fine.”

 

“Now, look out. Here comes tall, dark, and handsome.”

 

Steve looked up to watch Bucky practically strut back over to them, three drinks cradled in his arms. “I’ve got booze!” he declared. He obviously knew that Sam had been talking to Steve privately, but he didn’t bring it up. Instead, he sat on Steve’s other side and passed out the drinks.

 

Steve downed his in about three sips.

 

“Easy, there,” Bucky said, slapping him lightly on the arm.

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re not my mom.”

 

Bucky frowned, eyes flicking over to Sam. “I know I’m not. I just thought you didn’t want to get drunk tonight.”

 

“Changed my mind,” Steve grumbled, shoving to his feet. “I’m going to sit at the bar.”

 

Steve sat on the most secluded stool, bracing his forearms on the vaguely sticky countertop. He wanted to go home. He wanted it to stop hurting so badly every time he looked at Bucky. He wanted to forget for five damn minutes.

 

The bartender moseyed up to him, using a towel to clean a glass like he was straight out of a movie. “Damn. You look like you need something strong,” he whistled.

 

Steve nodded. “Yeah. That’d be appreciated.”

 

“Something strong, comin’ right up, chief.”

 

A moment later, the bartender slid a glass filled with a strangely reddish liquid. Steve eyed it suspiciously. “What is it?”

 

The bartender shrugged. “A little something of my own design. It won’t kill ya unless you’re allergic to vodka.”

 

Steve didn’t even wait for the guy to finish his sentence before he took a sip. The drink burned horrifically on the way down his throat, immediately shooting fuzz into his brain. Steve coughed a little. “Thanks,” he said. Looking at the bartender’s nametag, he added, “Barney.”

 

“Not a problem, my friend. Steve Rogers, right? Captain-fucking-America?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Hardly.”

 

“Yeah,” Barney said sarcastically, “You really seem to be emanating truth and justice tonight. What troubles you?”

 

“You do realize that just because you’re a bartender doesn’t mean you need to listen to my life story.”

 

Barney cocked his head. “Kid, I ain’t a bartender most days. If I wanna entertain this little fantasy, who’re you to stop me? All I’m looking for is some conversation with a fellow American down on his luck.”

 

Steve thought about it. “Right,” he said, lips quirking a little.

 

“Damn right. Now, what troubles you?”

 

Steve took a long sip from his drink. “So, there’s this guy.”

 

“Your boyfriend, right? I keep forgetting his name, but my little shit of a brother apparently knows him, so he keeps being a dick about it.”

 

“Bucky Barnes,” Steve said.

 

Barney snapped his fingers. “That’s it.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Anyways. Continue.”

 

Steve rolled his shoulders restlessly. “I just... I get the feeling that he doesn’t actually have any reason to stay with me. I feel like he’s only here because he has to be and... and I want him to be here because he wants to be with me.”

 

Barney frowned, propping an elbow against the counter. “Kid, listen to me. I saw that guy watch you while you stormed off over here for whatever reason, and trust me. There ain’t nothin’ but truth in your boyfriend’s eyes. The way he looked at you? Damn near pathetically besotted.”

 

Steve sighed. “It’s not real. It’s never fucking real.”

 

“Ahhhh, ‘course it is,” Barney said dismissively. “Sounds like you need another fixer,” he added, nodding to Steve’s mostly-finished drink. Steve nodded in agreement, vision unfocusing for a moment.

 

Steve wasn’t sure how many of those he ended up drinking before someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned blearily, and Bucky was standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of his tuxedo. “Um. Hey. Are you okay?”

 

Steve was in that one territory of drunkenness where he couldn’t decide if he was terribly depressed or terribly cheerful. “Buckyyyyyyy!” he shouted, leaning into his space. Apparently, he was feeling cheerful for the moment.

 

Bucky carefully placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders. “How much have you had?”

 

Steve ignored him. “Hey, listen, Bucky. Buck. Buuuuckyyyy.”

 

“What?”

 

Steve blinked slowly. “Dare me to punch the president in the face.”

 

Bucky frowned. “I will not ever do that.”

 

“No fun,” Steve grumbled, shaking his head clumsily as he jabbed a finger in Bucky’s general direction. “No fun, but you take care of me,” he slurred. “You care, right?”

 

“Of course I do. Where is this coming from?”

 

“The fixer!” Barney piped up helpfully from behind him.

 

Steve perked up. “They’re so good, Bucky. So good. So, so good.”

 

Bucky sighed, a little exasperated. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to dance, but I can see you’re a little preoccupied.”

 

Suddenly, Steve’s cheerful mood was gone. “Oh,” he mumbled.

 

“Hey. Don’t make that face.”

 

“There’s no face,” Steve grumbled, glaring at the floor, which seemed to be dancing along to the Gala’s music.

 

“Steve,” Bucky said seriously, but he didn’t seem to have an end to that sentence.

 

“Go dance. You have fun without me more than you do with me,” Steve said, words tumbling over each other.

 

Bucky furrowed his brows, lips parting in what looked like vague confusion. Before he could say anything, somebody put their hand on Bucky’s shoulder, and he turned around. Steve frowned, unsure as to why Brock Rumlow was even at this party. “Wanna dance?” he asked Bucky, eyebrows raised invitingly.

 

Bucky shot Steve a glance. Steve just stared blankly at them from behind his cup.

 

“Oh, sorry, Rogers. Mind if I steal him?”

 

Slowly, Steve shook his head.

 

Bucky was looking at Steve curiously. “A dance sounds great- I’ll meet you in a second.” Taking the cue, Rumlow backed away until he was respectfully out of earshot. “You don’t have to do this.”

 

Steve scowled. “Have to do what?”

 

Bucky fidgeted with his cuffs. “Let other guys dance with me.”

 

Steve tried for an eye roll, much too drunk for the attention this conversation required. “Look, Buck, it’s look like I expected you to be fuckin’ celibate the whole time you and I’ve been forced to stay together.”

 

Bucky reared back, almost as if he’d been hit. “What?” he snapped.

 

“Do whatever the fuck you want with Rumlow. We aren’t actually together or anything, so absolutely no harm done,” Steve muttered.

 

“You know what,” Bucky said, raising his voice as he looked at Barney. “Maybe you’re right. Hit me with some shots, please.”

 

Barney looked at him, unimpressed. “How many?”

 

“Don’t care.”

 

Barney shrugged and laid out four shot glasses. Bucky grabbed them, one by one, and downed them before slamming them back down on the counter, never once breaking eye contact with Steve. “Enjoy yourself,” he growled.

 

“You too,” Steve returned, angry.

 

And yet, Steve still glowered with menace as Rumlow and Bucky twirled seamlessly through the dance floor. There was a fire in Bucky’s eyes that looked almost alien to Steve, and Steve hated every instant of it.

 

While they were dancing, Natasha silently sat on the barstool next to him. “You’re being stupid,” she told Steve after a moment.

 

Steve finished the last of the drink he’d been working on when Bucky had come over. “’M not,” he mumbled.

 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “God, how drunk _are_ you?”

 

Steve fumbled with placing the empty glass on the counter, shaking his head slowly when Barney offered another one.

 

Natasha turned to face him. “Steve, what do you want?”

 

Steve sagged within himself. “I want Bucky.”

 

“Then stop being a fucking coward and _go get him_.”

 

Steve just closed his eyes. “Not now.”

 

“Not ever?” Natasha demanded.

 

“Don’t wanna think about this.”

 

“Fine.”

 

They sat in silence, watching the dance floor. Bucky and Rumlow were getting more and more touchy, and Steve was just about done watching it. The song finally ended, and Bucky staggered a little bit as he headed back to the bar, going straight for Steve. He grabbed Steve’s shoulder and said roughly, “I want to go home.”

 

Natasha sighed. “I’ll call you two a cab.”

 

Steve’s muddled brain was reeling as they quietly let the elevator take them down to the lobby, leaning heavily against any structurally sound surface he could find.

 

The cab ride was unnaturally quiet too. Bucky wouldn’t meet his eyes, not that Steve was all that eager to look at him at the moment.

 

They nearly crashed into the apartment, and they didn’t turn on the lights. Steve clumsily kicked off his shoes and tossed aside the jacket of his tuxedo and bowtie. Finally, he turned to face Bucky. “You didn’t do anything with Rumlow.”

 

“Of course I didn’t,” Bucky snapped. “He’s a jerk who reminds me too much of the guys that used to pay me.”

 

Steve felt a little sick. “I’m glad,” he admitted roughly.

 

“Huh?”

 

“’M glad you didn’t do anything.”

 

“Why?”

 

Steve couldn’t think of a very logical way to explain, so he just turned and headed for the bedroom.

 

“Steve,” Bucky said from behind him, sounding irritated. “You can’t-“

 

Steve turned around abruptly, and Bucky collided lightly with his chest. Steve’s hands automatically went to grip Bucky’s hips, holding him in place.

 

“’M glad because...” he started, still unsure how to answer. Bucky swallowed roughly, and Steve’s eyes greedily tracked the movement of his throat.

 

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first. Just that in the next second, their lips had crashed together.

 

Bucky gasped, and Steve wasted no time before licking into his mouth, hungry to taste every corner of it. Bucky let out a choked moan, hands sliding around to Steve’s lower back before gliding down to his ass. In retaliation, Steve bit down on Bucky’s lower lip before soothing the spot with his tongue.

 

Bucky didn’t fight for control of the kiss, only offering full access to his mouth with eagerness. Steve could taste the odd mixture of alcohols they’d had that night. Underneath it all, he could taste Bucky.

 

Bucky broke away for an instant to start shoving Steve backwards, deeper into the bedroom, and kicking the door shut with his foot. Then, he started kissing at Steve’s neck, not worrying if his teeth scraped over skin.

 

Steve let out a shaky breath before pulling Bucky back up to resume the kiss properly. His hands went to the buttons of Bucky’s shirt. “Good?” he gasped. Bucky nodded rapidly, and Steve set to work on removing the shirt with fumbling, desperate fingers.

 

When it finally slid off of Bucky’s shoulders, Steve dropped his head to mouth at the muscular expanse of chest that he’d just been allowed access to. Bucky’s fingers tangled in his hair, breath harsh in the darkness of the room.

 

Steve pushed on Bucky’s shoulders, and he quickly fell back onto the bed, legs splayed ridiculously. Steve took a moment to yank off his own dress-shirt before crawling between those amazing legs, muscular thighs clenching at the contact.

 

They kissed heatedly, hands roaming. Steve didn’t have the presence of mind to pay special attention to Bucky’s left arm, or to think too much when the chain of Bucky’s dog tags got in the way. All he could do was get closer, and the room was too hot for any of this to continue comfortably.

 

Bucky’s hands felt along Steve’s abdomen as he tilted his head back. Steve bit down on the corner of his amazingly sharp jawline, and Bucky squirmed. “I want you,” Bucky said, and his voice was almost breathy.

 

Steve pulled back, nodding to himself several times. “I-“ Steve began, but Bucky rolled his hips, and Steve let out a groan. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Yeah.”

 

Bucky hooked his fingers through Steve’s belt loops, tugging downwards almost roughly. They shimmied out of their too-tight dress-pants, not bothering to break the kiss as they did so. Steve slid a hand underneath Bucky’s underwear, cupping the swell of his ass. Bucky moaned, trying to shift closer.

 

Steve slid the waistband downwards.

 

And nothing was said very coherently after that.

 

Sometime later, they fell back, still breathing harshly in the cooling atmosphere of the dark room. The world was spinning, and Steve wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol of because of what he’d just done.

 

Steve fell asleep, exhausted and blissful and maybe just a little bit hopeful.

 

* * *

 

 

When Steve regained consciousness, the first thing that registered was the cold. He took a moment to let the feeling orient him before cracking his eyes open to the relative darkness of the bedroom.

 

He propped himself up on an elbow, head throbbing horrendously. The sheets around him were dirty and tangled. At the base of the bed lay a pile of clothes from the night before. When Steve glanced down at his bare chest, he felt his heart sink.

 

The events of the night prior filtered back to him. He closed his eyes, trying to take a deep breath. Fuck. He’d been so stupid.

 

Bucky wasn’t in the room.

 

Steve forced himself to shuffle out of bed, grabbing some boxers and pants as he did so. He stumbled into the kitchen area, and was, for some unknown reason, not surprised at all to find it empty.

 

Bucky had left. He was gone.

 

Steve should have known better.

 

His gut churned with nausea- part from the hangover and part from Bucky’s absence. He felt the silence of the apartment seeping into his bones with icy tendrils.

 

There was no way he could stay here.

 

Steve threw on something vaguely presentable and stormed out of the apartment, throat tight and eyes burning. He remembered the fervent need deep in his gut from last night. He remembered the way Bucky looked and felt and tasted.

 

He felt _sick_.

 

Steve didn’t even know where he was going until he found himself roughly pushing into his favorite coffee shop. When he ordered his coffee, he hoped his voice didn’t sound too snappish (or too raw), but judging by his server’s tight expression, he didn’t do a very good job.

 

Steve hunched within himself in the corner of the shop. When he felt how badly his hands were trembling, he just clutched his coffee cup tighter.

 

Bucky was fucking gone.

 

And it wasn’t just a terrible feeling on account of Steve’s clearly unrequited love for him. It was terrible because Bucky was basically his best friend. This wasn’t just some damn one-night stand. They had to talk it out, like the fucking adults they were, but Bucky had just packed his bags and bailed the moment he woke up.

 

That was fucked up.

 

Steve pressed shaking fingertips into his eyes, trying to balance over the threshold between heartbreak and fury.

 

“Oh my god, that’s Steve Rogers,” someone whispered, pointing at him.

 

Steve swallowed heavily as he saw the flash of a camera go off.

 

“Rogers! How does it feel to be sidelined by your boyfriend with the Oscar nominations?” the guy with the camera asked, because apparently he was also a reporter.

 

Steve pretended not to hear him, bunching his shoulders even tighter.

 

“Hey! I know you heard me.”

 

Steve didn’t respond.

 

The guy sighed, and muttered, “Fucking faggot,” under his breath.

 

Steve looked up sharply at that, pain shooting through his skull from the hangover. “What’d you say?” he asked.

 

The guy looked a little surprised. “What?”

 

“What’d you call me?”

 

The guy straightened himself out, squaring his shoulders. “A faggot,” he said plainly.

 

“You should apologize.”

 

“Why? So I don’t have to be worried about you hitting me with one of your limp wrists?”

 

Something in Steve snapped. He stalked forward, grabbing the guy roughly by the collar. “I don’t have the patience for bigots,” he snapped.

 

The guy didn’t seem terribly intimidated. “Look, why don’t you crawl back to your whore of a boyfriend?”

 

“Don’t call him that,” he snarled.

 

“Why shouldn’t I?”

 

Steve had had about enough. He slammed his knee into the guy’s stomach.

 

“HEY!” the barista shouted. “No fighting in here. Take it outside if you’re gonna spill blood, or else I’m calling the cops.”

 

Steve released his hold on the guy, turning and storming out the door to walk back briskly the way he came.

 

He was interrupted when someone grabbed onto his sleeve a minute later. Fuck, this guy was persistent. “Hey, asshole,” he said, and swung a round hook at Steve’s cheek.

 

Steve was momentarily stunned, head ringing. They guy got off another punch, hitting his nose with a sickening crunch. Steve whimpered, holding his bleeding face with one hand as he shoved the man against the nearest brick wall with the other. “Enough,” Steve said, voice sounding odd through his broken nose.

 

When the guy struggled, Steve slammed him against the wall, and he blinked in a daze. Steve took his opportunity to get the hell out of there. His face felt like it was on fire, and his head hurt, and his heart was broken.

 

He broke into Natasha’s apartment and passed out on her couch.

 

* * *

 

 

**BREAKING: Actor Steve Rogers assaults photographer in Brooklyn coffee shop**

**TRENDING: #DontInterruptStevesCoffeeTime**

**GOSSIP COLUMN: Does Steve look a little worse-for-wear to you guys too? Speculation arises of domestic squabble with his boyfriend- is our favorite Hollywood couple fighting?**

 

* * *

 

 

“No.”

 

Steve blinked owlishly at Natasha’s rigid posture standing over him. Here arms were crossed and her glare was so livid that Steve was taken aback. Steve sat up, rubbing the side of his head in disorientation.

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“What?” Steve asked, wincing at the croaky sound of his own voice.

 

“Your nose is broken.”

 

“Oh. Yeah.”

 

Natasha sighed, placing either hand on Steve’s shoulders. “What the fuck happened?”

 

Steve felt sick again. “I fucked up,” he said through gritted teeth.

 

“How?”

 

Steve dropped his head between his shoulders. “I should’ve never drunk as much as I did last night.”

 

Natasha was quiet for a moment. “What did you do to Bucky?”

 

Steve didn’t look up. “I fucked him,” he said bluntly.

 

“And that’s a bad thing because...?”

 

Steve raised his head to scowl at Natasha. “Because we were drunk, and it was a complete mistake, and Bucky was fucking _gone_ when I woke up!”

 

Natasha looked startled. “He left?”

 

To his mortification, Steve felt a tear slide heavily down his cheek. His lip was trembling. “He _left_ ,” he repeated.

 

When he started to really cry, Natasha pressed a kiss to the top of his head, leaving the room for a moment to grab her first aid kit. She cleaned and fixed Steve’s face as his breaths continued to hiccup and the tears continued to fall.

 

He must’ve checked out for a long time, because the next thing Steve remembered was blinking from his position on Natasha’s plushly carpeted floor. Natasha sat crisscross applesauce, reading a book next to Steve’s head.

 

“I love him,” Steve whispered to the air, because now it needed to be said out loud or else his lungs were going to explode. “I love him, and he doesn’t love me.”

 

Natasha combed her fingers through Steve’s hair once. “I know, honey. It sucks, doesn’t it?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you want to stay here for now?” Natasha asked carefully, placing her book down.

 

Steve thought about it for a moment. “Just for tonight. I can’t go back there quite yet.”

 

“I thought as much,” she murmured, pushing some of Steve’s hair off of his forehead. “You haven’t showered since yesterday, have you?”

 

Steve looked away guiltily. “No.”

 

“Shower. Then, I’ll order in some Thai food and we can watch _Mean Girls_.”

 

Steve relaxed. “Okay.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

On the way back to his apartment the next day, Steve couldn’t help but stop when he heard some scuffling in an alley.

 

He turned, gauging the situation.

 

All the thoughts went out of his head when he saw the woman kick a dog in the stomach, dog yelping in pain.

 

“HEY!” he shouted angrily.

 

The woman turned. “What?” she asked, annoyed.

 

“You can’t just kick a dog.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “This isn’t any of your business. The dog was pissing me off anyway.”

 

“That’s not an excuse.”

 

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re pissing me off too.”

 

Before Steve knew what was happening, the woman had kicked at his kneecap, nearly dislocating it, and slammed her palms down on the back of Steve’s neck. Steve hit the disgusting alley ground, losing his breath momentarily. The woman’s sharp stiletto heels made contact with his back, and he gasped uselessly.

 

When he had the presence of mind, he grabbed the woman’s ankle and yanked. She fell with an “ _oomph_ ” next to him, and they grappled for a moment on the ground.

 

The fight was over when the woman gave him a black eye and managed to pepper spray the other one. It hurt like shit, and all Steve could do was curl up in defense. The woman made a disapproving tsking noise as she stood and walked briskly out of the alleyway.

 

When Steve recovered, he brought the dog to a shelter before heading to his apartment for real.

 

He cleaned everything four times before the crawling of his skin started to die down.

 

* * *

 

 

**BREAKING: Actor Steve Rogers appears to have been pepper-sprayed for unknown reasons**

**NEW: Woman claims Steve Rogers assaulted her**

**TRENDING: Steve Rogers brought a puppy to my shelter and he looked like shit!**

**GOSSIP COLUMN: “He just walked up to me and starting hitting me.” Listen to Dottie Underwood’s heartbreaking story: “Steve Rogers assaulted me.”**

 

* * *

 

 

He may or may not have stayed in bed for two days straight after that.

 

Nick Fury may or may not have called him and threatened him, saying that if he got in “ _one more fight_ , so help me God, Rogers, I will shoot you in the ass.”

 

(Fury hadn’t sounded like he was kidding either.)

 

Steve figured that the only way to prevent another fight was to hole himself up in his apartment and never leave.

 

After two days, he ran out of food, so he took a trip to the grocery store, covering his horrifically bruised face with large sunglasses while he kept his hood up.

 

Of course, that didn’t stop people from taking pictures, and Steve flinched every time a flash went off.

 

When someone jumped in front of his pathway to take a picture as he walked home, Steve stopped in his tracks and dropped his grocery stores from how badly he was startled. “Just LEAVE ME ALONE!” he shouted, grabbing his bags hurriedly and stalking the rest of the way home without looking back.

 

* * *

 

 

**TRENDING: Steve Rogers totally just screamed at a bunch of photographers #SaltyCap #YouTellEm #SteveRogersIsAngryAndIAmTotallyDownWithIt**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“ROGERS! Where’s your boyfriend? You haven’t been seen with him in over a week! Did you two break up?” the reporter asked as he stepped onto his treadmill.

 

Were they following him _everywhere_ now?

 

“Leave Bucky out of this,” Steve said tiredly, heart clenching in misery.

 

“So, something happened? Did you break up?”

 

“I don’t know,” Steve snapped. “I don’t want to talk about this. Fuck off.”

 

Thankfully, she did.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**TRENDING: Steve Rogers is getting feisty with the press #LeaveTheGuyAlone**

**TRENDING: Did Steve and Bucky break up???????**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Where’s Bucky?”

 

“Not here. Go away.”

 

* * *

 

 

**TRENDING: Stop asking him questions about--**

 

* * *

 

 

“What are the new bruises from, Rogers? Another fight?”

 

“No,” Steve muttered sarcastically. “Fell in the shower.”

 

* * *

 

 

**TRENDING: Steve Ro--**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The fist collided with his ear, and he couldn’t hear anymore, and more of the men were--

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**TRENDING: --**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Steve pressed the ice pack to his--

 

* * *

 

 

**TRENDING--**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He laid down on--

 

* * *

 

 

**TREN--**

 

* * *

 

 

Everything hurt--

 

* * *

 

 

**TR--**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The Oscars were tonight.

 

And Steve had had enough.

 

He and Bucky _had_ to go together. It had been set in stone since the instant Bucky was nominated. It just-

 

Steve took a deep breath.

 

He’d finish this professionally.

 

Maybe after the Oscars, Steve could move to some remote place where nobody knew his name. He could start over. Never be famous again.

 

It was a nice thought.

 

But first he had to find Bucky and get through the evening.

 

He had one lead.

 

And that was in Bucky’s best friend, who Steve had never actually met. He did know a ridiculous amount of stories about the elusive “Clint Barton,” but he had no idea where he lived. Just that he owned a building somewhere in New York.

 

“Natasha,” he said into the phone as soon as she picked up.

 

“Hey, Steve. How are you feeling?”

 

“Fine. I need you to track somebody down for me,” he said shortly.

 

“Sure thing. Who?”

 

“Clint Barton.”

 

“Alright. I’ll have an address in about five minutes.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Steve was walking towards Clint Barton’s building, head down and hands shoved in pockets. Miraculously, nobody harassed him on the way there.

 

Steve stood on the porch and impatiently rang the buzzer for C. BARTON.

 

“Who the fuck is it?” a rough voice said through the speakers.

 

“Steve Rogers. I’m here to see Bucky.”

 

There was a long-ass pause. “Whyyyy?” Clint said slowly.

 

“Relax. I’m just here to validate the Oscars.”

 

“You’re not here to apologize?” Clint asked warily.

 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. “Look, I’ve had a few very long weeks,” he snapped. “Can I see Bucky or not?”

 

Clint sighed. The door buzzed. “You better be as fucking fantastic as Bucky made you sound.”

 

Steve decided not to think about that as he trudged up the stairs. Clint Barton was standing in the door of his apartment as Steve reached the landing, arms crossed over his broad chest. “So, the famous Steve Rogers.” He sounded pretty hostile. Steve was kind of relieved by that. It was easier to deal with.

 

“I suppose so. Where is he?”

 

Clint shrugged. “He went out to buy groceries about ten minutes ago. I want to talk to you before you get to see him.”

 

Before Steve could respond, Clint stepped back, inclining his head to tell Steve to get into the apartment.

 

“Whoa,” a girl said from where she was eating cereal at the counter. “Is this the dude?” she asked Clint in a whisper.

 

“Yeah,” Clint said, putting a threatening hand on Steve’s back as he guided him to sit on a well-loved couch.

 

The girl hopped off her stool and came to stand in front of Steve, putting her hands on her hips. “At least his face looks like shit.”

 

“Thanks,” Steve muttered.

 

Clint sat on the couch across from him, and the girl sat next to them. They both looked eerily parallel as they glared him down. “What are your intentions with my best friend?”

 

Steve frowned. “Look, I don’t have any intentions anymore. He made it pretty clear when he-“ Steve’s voice broke, and he cut himself off.

 

The girl and Clint exchanged glances. “So, you’re into him,” the girl said.

 

Steve crossed his arms defensively. “I know I fucked up. I was drunk, and I know that’s not really an excuse, but I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again. I know how things are now. I’m just here to finish what we started. We never have to see each other again after tonight, if that’s what he wants.”

 

The girl’s face lit up as she clapped her hands together. “Do you want coffee?” she asked, suddenly friendly.

 

Clint looked exceedingly less standoffish as well. “Nooo, Katie, that coffee belongs to me.”

 

“If Steve Rogers wants your coffee, he can have your coffee.”

 

“Aww, Kate, no,” Clint sighed, scrubbing a hand across his stubbly jaw.

 

“Did I miss something?” Steve asked.

 

“Yes,” Clint and Kate said at the same time. Seriously, it was creepy.

 

Steve awkwardly sat on the couch as Kate brought him a cup of coffee and sat back down next to Clint. “So...” he said in discomfort. “Are you two... you know- together?”

 

Kate and Clint looked at Steve in absolute horror. “NO!” Clint shouted. “Dating Katie would be like- dating my sister. Or- ew- dating my daughter. She’s like twelve. Practically a fetus. A tiny fetus child.”

 

“Am not,” Kate muttered.

 

“Plus, Kate is totally banging this super scary chick. What’s her name?”

 

Kate smiled almost dreamily. “America Chavez. And she’s not scary. I mean, _scary-amazing_ , sure. But not scary.”

 

Clint looked at Steve. “She keeps breaking into my apartment.”

 

Kate waved a dismissive hand. “That’s just because she likes us.”

 

Clint groaned in distress. “I hate you.” The words had just come out of his mouth when Steve caught a flicker of movement and an empty vase fell off a table, crashing to the floor with gusto. “FUCK!” Clint shouted, jumping. He visibly forced himself to relax, sighing. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, honey. You can come out.”

 

A head peaked out from behind the table. “Sorry,” the little girl said quietly. “You were having a serious conversation. I didn’t want to-“

 

“Wanda, come on. C’mere.” Wanda hesitated before tiptoeing over and crawling into Clint’s lap. Clint pointed at Steve. “This is the guy that Uncle Bucky has been talking about. Remember?”

 

Wanda nodded. “You’re the mean one.”

 

“Don’t worry. He’s fine now. Katie and I checked,” Clint said, bouncing her a little bit.

 

Steve was slightly bewildered. “Is she your daughter?”

 

Clint shook his head. “Her parents lived on the floor above us, but when they died Wanda and Pietro had nowhere to go. So, they’re here.”

 

Wanda was glaring at Steve. “Are you going to be mean to Uncle Bucky again?” she asked suspiciously.

 

“No?” Steve answered.

 

Wanda stared at him intently for a full minute before relaxing. “I believe you,” she decided.

 

“Okay...”

 

At that moment another kid dashed out of a room, swatting Clint on the head as he passed. Clint scowled and flailed to try and hit the boy (who Steve assumed was Pietro) back. Pietro just laughed and said, “You’re going to have to be a lot faster than that, old man.”

 

“I finished the last of the cereal,” Kate told Pietro as he got to the kitchen.

 

“Yeah, but Uncle Bucky went to get more.”

 

Kate shrugged.

 

A moment later, the couch across from Steve contained Kate, two small children in Clint’s lap, and Clint himself. All of them were looking at Steve expectantly. Steve sort of had no idea what to do.

 

Which was the only reason why he was thankful when the door opened. “Clint, you wouldn’t believe the shit I got at the store. This is why I’ve been-“ Bucky froze in place when he saw the scene on the couches, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “Um.”

 

Steve clambered to his feet. “I need to talk to you.”

 

Bucky reeled back, dropping his groceries. “What the fuck happened to your face?” he asked in a whisper.

 

Steve frowned. “Have you been online at all in the past two weeks?”

 

Bucky shook his head slowly. “Did you get into another fight?” he asked, voice low and furious.

 

Steve shrugged, not meeting Bucky’s eyes. “Well, same-old-same-old.”

 

Bucky cursed darkly under his breath.

 

(“Uncle Bucky said a bad word,” Wanda whispered loudly to Clint.)

 

(“Uncle Bucky says a lot of bad words,” Clint replied quietly.)

 

“Look,” Steve sighed. “I’m loving this about as much as you are at this point. But we really just have to stick things out for the Oscars ceremony. I promise I’ll get out of your hair after, but this was already set in stone. I’m sorry,” Steve said in a rush, the words almost like ripping off a Band-Aid.

 

Bucky’s face shuttered. “Right,” he growled. “We got everything we wanted, didn’t we? I’m famous and the media’s on okay terms with you.”

 

Steve didn’t bother correcting Bucky. The media hating him again wasn’t really Steve’s problem at the moment. “Right,” Steve agreed, voice cracking embarrassingly.

 

Bucky brought the groceries over to the fridge and started furiously reorganizing the food items within. “I’ll, um. Swing by the apartment to pick you up later,” Bucky said awkwardly, not turning around.

 

“Okay,” Steve agreed, eyes burning with the sudden need to cry. This was so much worse than what he’d expected. Steve gave a half-hearted wave to the four other people in the apartment before bolting for the door.

 

He couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough.

 

* * *

 

 

**GOSSIP COLUMN: Steve and Bucky show up at the Oscars together! Are they back together? Things seem a little strained to us too... Click here to find out what experts are saying!**

 

* * *

 

 

Steve and Bucky were seated towards the front of the theater, since Bucky was sort of making his way towards being an A-list actor and was nominated for one of the biggest categories of the night.

 

They sat in stony silence waiting for the show to start.

 

(Wade Wilson was hosting tonight, and Steve was actually kind of excited to see what jokes he put together.)

 

“James and Steve!” Thor shouted, coming to shake hands with them. “Excellent to see you both. How are things?”

 

“Fine,” Steve said, trying for a smile.

 

Thor didn’t look convinced. “Everything is fine?” he echoed.

 

Bucky managed a more genuine-looking smile. “Yeah, Thor. Don’t you worry about us.”

 

They made small talk for a few more minutes before Thor headed off to his seat. Bucky turned to Steve and said awkwardly, “They did a good job with your make-up.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes, feeling like he was wearing his skin inside out. “Thanks.”

 

Bucky wouldn’t meet his eyes when he asked, “So, exactly how many fights did you get in while I was gone?”

 

 _Gone_. There was that word again.

 

Steve shrugged. “A lot.”

 

Bucky glared at him. “Which one gave you this?” he asked, bitterly, reaching out and pressing the pad of his thumb against the bruise on Steve’s cheek. Steve flinched back, and Bucky released him immediately.

 

“A photographer at the coffee shop the morning after you...” Steve trailed off.

 

Bucky stared at him blankly. “You got into a fight the morning after we slept together,” he said bluntly, with a curious lack of emotion.

 

Steve winced. “He said you were a-“ Steve cut himself off, taking a measured breath. “Yeah. I did.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes, scoffing bitterly. “Was I so disgusting that you had to take your anger out immediately afterwards?”

 

Steve’s brows furrowed. “What?” he asked incredulously.

 

“You heard me,” Bucky said evenly.

 

All around them, most people were sitting in their seats.

 

“What are you talking about?” Steve said, bewildered.

 

Bucky glared at him angrily. “You slept with me because of a drunken mistake and then had to go punch a guy. I don’t think I’m being inarticulate about it.”

 

Steve’s mouth clicked shut, then opened again. Steve decided to go with his impulses here. He was about to lose Bucky anyway. It wasn’t like anything he said could make anything worse. “Buck,” he began haltingly, “I didn’t sleep with you because I was drunk. I slept with you because I love you.”

 

“Yeah, well, you-“ Bucky started, but then faltered, eyes widening as he actually seemed to register Steve’s words. “ _What_?”

 

“You heard me,” Steve said, swallowing roughly.

 

Bucky stared at him in naked shock, even as the lights of the theater dimmed and Wade Wilson took the stage with a tremendous applause. It was pretty dark, but Steve could just barely make out Bucky’s silhouette. That didn’t mean he wasn’t shocked to his very core when Bucky grabbed the lapels of Steve suit and pulled him down.

 

When their lips met in the darkness, the touch was in great contrast to their last kiss. This one was soft and a little bit confused, but also filled with wonder. Underneath it all, something nearly mournful gave the kiss a slightly bitter taste, but the rest was so sweet that Steve didn’t care.

 

Steve tugged gently at the short strands of Bucky’s hair, and Bucky sighed blissfully against him. In the background, they could hear Wade Wilson talking, but it didn’t matter as the world zeroed in to their little bubble.

 

Until. 

 

“HEY! Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers!”

 

They broke apart quickly, turning to face the stage in surprise. Wade Wilson was glaring menacingly at them.

 

“I know you two are both devastatingly attractive and happy and in love, but could you please refrain from making out while I’m at the center of attention? I’m being funny and your cuteness is distracting people from the main attraction.”

 

Steve sank down in his seat, covering his face with his hands as his cheeks went dark.

 

He cracked an eye open to see Bucky smugly flip Wade off, blowing him a kiss.

 

Wade rolled his eyes and continued with his speech.

 

Steve’s lips were fucking tingling.

 

His mind was reeling.

 

What the hell had just happened?

 

He gave Bucky a baffled look, but he just mouthed, “We’ll talk about it later,” and laced their fingers together.

 

Steve had almost forgotten how much he’d missed the feeling.

 

* * *

 

 

**GOSSIP COLUMN: All is well with the world! Steve and Bucky were called out on a make-out session during the Oscars opening speech. Our favorite Hollywood couple is going strong!**

**TRENDING: #nice**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When they announced that Bucky had won his category, Bucky made his adorable face of excitement, pecking an ecstatic kiss to Steve’s lips as he stood and made his way to the stage. Steve’s heart was swelling with pride.

 

“Wow, um,” Bucky began, voice shaking a little bit as he held his Oscar. “When I first saw the nominations, I couldn’t believe I even existed in the same level as all those other actors. You guys are all my heroes, and I honestly can’t believe I’ve made it this far.”

 

Bucky took a deep breath. “I’d like to thank the cast and crew of _Stained Daffodils_. You guys were so amazing during this movie. I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever worked on. Thank you so much for making it great. I’d like to thank my friends watching at home- Clint, don’t you dare say, ‘I told you so,’ or something dumb like that. God, I’d like to thank my boyfriend, Steve Rogers.”

 

Bucky let the crowd clap a little as he gave a blinding smile and grabbed the neck of the microphone. “Stevie, I literally could not have done this without you. Even just having you around makes everything so much easier and so much brighter and better. I love you so much. Thank you for just existing.”

 

Bucky swallowed heavily. “The last thing I want to say is directed towards anyone who has ever felt alienated or alone or wrong just because of who they love. I wanted to tell you guys how incredibly strong you are, whether you’re safe right now or not, whether you’ve come out or not, and whether you’re okay or not right now. I’m going to tell you something you’ve heard your whole lives: _it gets better_. I know you keep hearing it, but I’m telling you that it’s true. It happened to me too. One day, I woke up, and the first thing I saw was the face of the love of my life, and just knowing that in itself made all the shit I’ve gone through worth it. One day, you’re going to feel better about who you love, but until then, you need to keep being you and keep doing what you’re doing. Stay strong, guys. Every single one of you is amazing and irreplaceable, and _nobody should be discriminated based on who they love_. Thank you.”

 

The applause was deafening as Bucky exited the stage. Steve stared after him in amazement. He was so in love with him.

 

When Bucky finally slid back into his seat a little while later, Steve grabbed his hand tightly and whispered. “Okay, how much of that was real?”

 

Bucky gave a sheepish grin. “All of it.”

 

Steve shook his head in wonder, leaning forward to kiss Bucky again, because it felt like the very right thing to do. Thankfully, Bucky kissed him back enthusiastically, gently stroking the side of Steve’s face so as to not hurt his bruises.

 

This time, they weren’t called out before they naturally broke apart.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**NEW: Click here to watch Bucky Barnes’ winning speech at Oscars**

**TRENDING: Bucky Barnes is the hero we all deserve**

 

* * *

 

 

When they got home, Steve was vibrating with the need for clarification.

 

However, by some unspoken agreement, they both silently changed into more comfortable clothes before returning to the kitchen. Steve went to heat up some Mac & Cheese and Bucky grabbed a packet of make-up remover.

 

As Steve waited on the microwave, he sat on the counter, and Bucky stepped between his legs, meticulously cleaning off the make-up so that he wouldn’t hurt Steve, until all of his bruises were exposed.

 

When Steve couldn’t take it anymore, he whispered, “You left.”

 

Bucky pursed his lips. “Yeah. I did.”

 

Taking a shuddering breath, Steve managed a choked, “You were _gone_.”

 

Bucky smoothed his hands down Steve’s sides. “Yeah,” he agreed, face pinched in distress.

 

“Why?”

 

Bucky sighed, stroking his thumbs across the fabric of Steve’s shirt. “I thought... When I woke up that morning, I was so sure that as soon as you were awake too, you’d brush me off. You’d tell me to forget about the whole thing. And, fuck, Steve, I didn’t want to forget. I was so fucking scared, and I couldn’t just sit around waiting for you to deal out my fate. So I left.”

 

Steve reached forward, fingers twisting into the cloth of Bucky’s shirt. “That was a shitty thing to do.”

 

Bucky shook his head miserably. “I couldn’t stand the idea of having to look at you again when I knew how you _felt_. I-“ He cut himself off. “I couldn’t do it. I was a coward.”

 

Carefully, Steve whispered, “It wasn’t a great move.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I know.”

 

“I just,” Steve felt his lip start to tremble, “I just.”

 

Bucky moved his hands up to gently cup Steve’s face, making a hushing noise.

 

Steve crumpled, body convulsing with a sob. “I thought that you- you left, Bucky. I thought you didn’t think it was worth it to- to-“

 

Bucky started pressing these feather-light kisses to every single inch of skin he could get to on Steve’s face. The touches almost tickled.

 

“-to try and save at least our friendship. I thought our friendship at least was worth more than that.”

 

Bucky pulled away, looking at him gravely. “It is, Steve. That’s why I left. I wouldn’t be able to be your friend after _that_.”

 

Steve pulled Bucky a little closer. “Why not?”

 

Bucky let his thumb press slightly onto Steve’s lower lip. “I’m too much in love with you for that.”

 

Steve gave a shaky breath as Bucky carefully swiped the tear tracks off Steve’s face. “When did you know?” he asked.

 

Bucky leaned forward, letting their noses touch. “When you made me Mac & Cheese and saw my arm for the first time.”

 

Steve smiled sadly. “Maybe I should make Mac & Cheese more often.”

 

“You make it plenty often, pal.”

 

“I love you,” Steve suddenly murmured, letting his eyes close. “Knew it after you let me punch Alexander Pierce in the face.”

 

“That was a good moment,” Bucky agreed.

 

When their lips met, it was the barest touch, just a slight pressure. Steve made this desperate noise in the back of his throat as Bucky leaned back slightly, only to pull him closer and kiss him just a little bit firmer.

 

They clung to each other as they slowly relearned the taste and feel of each other’s lips. It was one of the best things Steve had ever felt.

 

When they parted, they were breathless and grinning. “I have an idea,” Bucky whispered, tapping their foreheads together.

 

“What is it?” Steve asked.

 

Bucky’s grin widened. “Blanket fort.”

 

Steve burst into a near-hysterical laugh, burying his face into the crook of Bucky’s shoulder. “That may be the best thing you’ve ever said. Let’s go.”

 

When they were finished with construction, they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, inspecting the fort with appraisal. “Buck?” Steve said.

 

“Stevie?”

 

“I think this is our best blanket fort yet.”

 

Bucky gave him a blinding smile. “I think I’d have to agree with you.”

 

They crawled inside, and said nothing for a long time, kissing and touching to communicate apologies, love, and support.

 

Steve fell asleep curled into Bucky’s side. He felt warm for the first time since he’d left. It was the best sleep he’d gotten in maybe his whole life.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The thing about dating Bucky was that it really wasn’t a whole lot different from what they’d had before.

 

They changed nothing in their public appearance, only adapting slightly in private. They learned to be intimate and honest.

 

When Steve’s friends found out they’d worked things out, Tony tried throwing Steve a “Lost My Virginity!” party. Steve politely declined.

 

When Clint found out, he’d laughed in their faces for ten minutes straight, literally collapsing to the floor, only to recover, high-five Kate, walk back inside his apartment, and shut the door in their faces.

 

They had a weird collection of friends.

 

But the thing was, the relationship was startlingly easy. Fake dating had really prepared them for the real deal.

 

“Hey,” Steve said, nudging Bucky as they got ready for bed. “I’m going to visit my mom’s next weekend. Wanna come?”

 

Bucky shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Sure thing.”

 

This was how Bucky ended up having a supreme freak-out on the train ride to upstate New York.

 

“She’s going to hate me,” he moaned, practically curled into a ball in Steve’s lap.

 

Steve sighed. “Buck, she was literally complaining about how pretty and charming you are to me the other week. She already likes you.”

 

“But what if she doesn’t,” Bucky whined, gripping Steve’s thigh tightly.

 

“All you have to do is tell her how reckless I am, compliment my genes, and she’ll be around your little finger. Oh, and her food. Compliment her food.”

 

“Flattery,” Bucky said. “I can do that.”

 

“You can,” Steve agreed, playing with the strands of Bucky’s hair.

 

Thankfully, Bucky made an excellent impression on Sarah Rogers. It wasn’t terribly difficult to do if you weren’t a complete asshole. Plus, Bucky was the primary reason that Steve hadn’t gotten himself killed by getting into fights for the past year, so Sarah was already a pretty big fan.

 

Sarah’s good mood meant that she made the best food.

 

When dinner was over, Steve and Bucky headed up to the room reserved for Steve whenever he visited.

 

Bucky groaned, flopping heavily onto the bed. “We’re not gonna fit,” he grumbled, glaring at the small frame.

 

“We’ll have to cuddle for warmth,” Steve said cheekily.

 

Bucky smirked. “Strip naked to conserve body heat.”

 

Steve sat down next to him, biting back a laugh. “We may even need to procreate to save the human population.”

 

Bucky snorted, rolling over to face Steve. “You’re the best.”

 

Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s knuckles. “You may have mentioned that once or twice.”

 

“And I will continue to do so until you believe it,” Bucky said firmly, dragging Steve down to lie half on top of him. “You’re heavy.”

 

“You love it.”

 

“Mmmmm.”

 

Sleeping that night was a bit cramped, but Steve was all too happy to have Bucky in his arms. The whole thing was so nice he wanted to cry.

 

* * *

 

 

“You two slept in that nightmare of a bed last night? Together?” Sarah asked in surprise over breakfast.

 

“It was for the good of mankind,” Bucky replied, hand resting on Steve’s thigh underneath the table.

 

(His hand was resting suspiciously high up his thigh. Steve was hyper-aware of its location, ready to slap it away if things became too much for _breakfast with his mother_.)

 

Sarah narrowed her eyes. “You boys didn’t really have to do that. I know about the whole fake dating thing. No need to trick me too.”

 

Steve blinked in surprise. “Ma, we’re not faking dating anymore. I told you this.”

 

Sarah looked at him in confusion. “You did?”

 

“When I said, ‘Is it okay if I bring my boyfriend?’ I thought I was being pretty self explanatory.”

 

Sarah glanced at Bucky. “I thought you were just being sneaky.”

 

“No. We had some very dramatic love confessions,” Bucky said, hiding behind his coffee cup after he said it.

 

“Huh,” Sarah said slowly.

 

“You didn’t see it coming?” Steve asked, startled.

 

Sarah waved a dismissive hand. “No, of course I did. I just thought it would take you two much longer to work things out. You’re quite oblivious, my dear.”

 

Steve’s cheeks heated. “Oh.”

 

Bucky’s phone started to ring, but it was closer to Steve, so he grabbed it and picked up.

 

Before he could even get out a greeting, Tony’s voice snapped, “When did you tell them?”

 

“When did I tell them what?” Steve asked.

 

There was a long pause. “I need to talk to Bucky.”

 

Steve handed the phone over. “Hey, Tony,” Bucky said. After a minute, his expression hardened. “ _What_?” he snapped. “I didn’t- hold on.” Bucky got to his feet, gave Steve and Sarah a vaguely apologetic look, and walked out of the room, hissing into the phone as he went.

 

“Enjoying your pancakes?” Sarah asked.

 

“Yep. Thank you.”

 

“Enjoying your super hot boyfriend?”

 

Steve choked on his bite of food. “Moooommmmm,” he whined.

 

Sarah shrugged. “Bucky is very attractive.”

 

“Yeah, he is, but we aren’t supposed to talk about these things.”

 

“Why not? I’m an old bachelorette and you’re a big kid. This is adult conversation.”

 

“It’s not,” Steve said in mortification.

 

Steve and Sarah continued to talk about nothing in particular until Bucky walked back in, face pinched. “Stevie, can I talk to you for a sec?”

 

“Uh, yeah, sure thing,” Steve said, standing and walking over to him with a bit of apprehension. “Everything okay?”

 

Bucky didn’t respond. He just grabbed Steve by the wrist and pulled him out of the room. “We have to leave,” he said lowly.

 

Steve frowned. “Why? What happened?” he asked, heart starting to beat faster.

 

Bucky gave him a desperate look, pulling him in for a quick kiss before whispering, “I can’t tell you until we get to the Tower. But we have to go.”

 

Steve swallowed heavily, feeling his anxiety start to build up. “Bucky-“

 

“We’re okay,” Bucky said firmly. “You and me. We’re fine, and that’s all that matters right now. Okay?”

 

Steve nodded slowly. “I’m a little freaked out right now.”

 

“I know,” Bucky whispered, pressing another kiss to his forehead. “I’ll talk to your mom. Go grab our stuff.”

 

Sarah was a little bit peeved about the turn of events, but she understood and made them promise to come back next weekend to finish what they started.

 

Bucky didn’t tell Steve anything as he got them on the train without anybody noticing, undoubtedly using skills from his time in the military to pull things off and get them a private car.

 

Steve’s panic was steadily building in his chest as Bucky’s expression became increasingly distraught every time he thought Steve wasn’t looking.

 

But all he could do was wait.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Something happened,” Tony said gravely, facing them with crossed arms in the middle of the common room.

 

(Steve knew it was really bad since Nick Fury was lurking menacingly in the background, glaring at everything.)

 

“I kind of gathered that much myself.”

 

Bucky’s fingers were so tight around his that it was beginning to hurt.

 

“If nobody tells me, I’m going to freak out,” Steve snapped.

 

Tony finally sighed, looking particularly devastated as he ran a hand through his hair. “So, it’s all over the Internet.”

 

Steve’s heart sank.

 

“Somebody found out about your suicide attempt with scary-accurate details. And it’s everywhere.”

 

Steve’s mind went blank. “What?”

 

“There are also a few scattered claims that you and Bucky have a fake relationship going, but that was never proved or anything, so it’s being dismissed as a rumor. The main thing is the suicide attempt, which Bucky and I figured must have been leaked through an outside party. Somebody must’ve heard you tell Bucky at Thor’s party.”

 

Steve’s eyes darted around the room. “I think I need to get out of here,” he said faintly.

 

“Stevie,” Bucky said in alarm, but that was the last thing he heard for a while.

 

* * *

 

 

**BREAKING: Actor Steve Rogers allegedly attempted to kill himself almost six years ago**

**NEW: Rumors of suicide attempt and fake relationship surround Steve Rogers**

**TRENDING: “When I was 22, I jumped off a building.” #MessedUpShit**

**GOSSIP COLUMN: Click here to read full story, including direct quotes and the science behind Steve Rogers’ suicide attempt**

 

* * *

 

 

Steve must have checked out for a while, or he must have fainted or something, because the next thing he remembered was blinking a few times, surrounded by a nearly uncomfortable amount of warmth.

 

He took a moment, coming to understand that he was probably in one of the Tower’s spare rooms. He was completely buried in Bucky’s arms, head pressed into his partner’s chest while Bucky pressed the occasional kiss to his head.

 

“Bucky?” he rasped, voice nearly breaking.

 

Bucky’s arms tightened around him. “Yeah, Stevie. I’m here. I’m right here.”

 

Steve was silent, staring blankly into space for a long few moments.

 

He didn’t waver when he whispered, “I don’t think I want to be famous anymore.”

 

* * *

 

 

**TEN YEARS LATER: REUNION OF CAPTAIN AMERICA CAST**

** Click here ** **to read full article**

**I came to the Captain America reunion not expecting much, least of all the public appearance of Steve Rogers, the actor who played Captain America himself.**

**If any of you remember, Rogers was notorious for starting scandals, initiating fights, and bad-mouthing reporters. He was a walking controversy, and nobody has heard from him for nearly a decade.**

**I tried my best to get a word with him at the event. “Rogers!” I called, and he turned, shoulders set as if expecting the worst. “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”**

**Rogers offered a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he shrugged and said, “Sure,” with the most wary tone I had ever heard in a person’s voice.**

**“You kind of fell off the face of the earth after the Captain America franchise. What have you been up to?”**

**Rogers thought for a moment, then smiled a little. “I live a pretty normal life. Kinda boring. Nothing you’d really want to write a story about,” he replied, but the delight in his eyes undermined the statement.**

**“You’re happy, then?” I pressed, because there was just something about Rogers that seemed somehow lighter. I hadn’t put my finger on it until that moment.**

**Rogers grinned. “Never been happier,” he said with the sort of naked earnestness that he had been so famous for.**

**“You don’t miss acting?”**

**Rogers lifted a shoulder half-heartedly. “Not too terribly. I love what I do now.”**

**“And what would that be?”**

**He gave me a stern look. “You know, I’ve really been enjoying my privacy for the past several years, and I’m not really in the mood to risk that by saying the wrong thing.”**

**I nodded, and Rogers reached up to run a hand through his hair. The movement caught my eye, and I noticed the gold band sitting snugly around his ring finger. Rogers followed my gaze and smiled sheepishly. “Who’s the lucky spouse?” I asked.**

**Rogers rocked back on his heels and gave me a blinding grin. “Nobody you’d know,” he said quietly.**

**I wanted to ask more, but Rogers checked his watch and looked at me, almost apologetic. “Is it alright with you if I head off now? Tonight’s date night, and I really don’t want to be late. You got everything you need?”**

**“Yeah. I think I did,” I said.**

**I watched as Rogers turned on heel and strode off, shoving his hands into his pockets as he went to meet his--**

 

Steve stopped reading as he felt the warm press of Bucky’s lips against the back of his neck. Bucky’s hands slid down his sides, and Steve could feel his breath when he murmured, “What’re you reading?” against his skin.

 

Steve swiveled around in his chair, finding that Bucky had caged him in by placing his hands on either side of the table behind Steve. Bucky’s eyes were dancing with mischief, and Steve smiled. He loved it when Bucky was like this.

 

Steve reached up to rest his hands on Bucky’s hips.

 

“Just some shit the media had to say about me,” Steve told him, smirking a little.

 

Bucky made a derisive noise in the back of his throat, moving one hand to the mouse. He closed the tab on Steve’s computer without bothering to look- his eyes were on Steve’s mouth instead.

 

Steve grinned wickedly as he grabbed the backs of Bucky’s thighs and pulled him closer, the computer quickly forgotten behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thecommodoresquid)


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